


Bridge of Vines

by Casstea



Series: 00Q Collections [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fic Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 73
Words: 40,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstea/pseuds/Casstea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 00Q Collection</p><p>73: <b>Infinite</b> - <i>“Q looks out at the void between space and time, and sees every infinite universe where he and James fall in love."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Together

**Author's Note:**

> For Tracionn, who asked for a happy ending to [Beam Me Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/668667/chapters/1748383).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.
> 
> A/N: This is my second 00Q collection, the first is _These Currents Which Bind Us_. Hope you guys enjoy this collection!

James found death wasn’t actually terrifying.

It was _different,_ that was the best way he could describe it. The world looked slightly different as he drifted across its surface. He liked walking about the parks, just as the sun was rising over London. At that time the sun would gentle tickle the horizon, covering the entire sky in beautiful reds and yellows. He would sit there for hours, watching the city wake up around him.

No one could see him, of course they couldn’t. He wasn’t strictly part of _this_ universe, he was waiting to move onto the place after life.

He was waiting for Q.

When Q would walk outside, James would follow him to the same spot every evening. Q could never see him, but James would just sit and watch Q stare at the stars, talking to James as he did. There were so many times that James wanted to reach out and touch Q’s wrinkled face, like had done so many times when he had been alive.

James didn’t have to wait for too long for Q to join him.

Days passed, and time aged Q even further. James stayed with him, an invisible protector, as Q slowly succumbed to the natural end to life.

On the final day, Q lay in his bed with the window open. The cool night breeze drifted in through the open window, caressing Q’s weak frame. James stood next to him, hand hovering over his love’s smiling as he waited patiently.

“James?”

Q’s voice was barely audible, but it was enough to make James jump.

“You can see me?” James asked, reaching out to hover his hand next to Q’s cheek. Q smiled, nodding just slightly.

“But doesn’t that mean-” Q asked.

“Yes,” James smiled, “it’s time.”

James himself had originally found this process distressing, when he realised that he hadn’t passed to the other side. Now, however, he just lifted Q’s soul out of his body, carrying him like he did on their wedding day. Q’s face became younger as James stepped away from Q’s body.

“James?” Q asked, as James set Q on his feet. Q looked like he did whenever James stepped into Q branch, with his jumper and glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

“Yes?” James asked, reaching forward. Here, where they were both in the same reality, James’ hand didn’t just pass through Q’s face. Here, he could pull Q into a passionate kiss, holding the other man close to him like he was never going to let go of him again.

“James,” Q laughed, and James smiled uncontrollably, “that’s my entrance to the other side? A kiss?”

James smirked.

“What else did you expect?” he asked.

“More Grim Reaper’s, less sawve agents,” Q said, lacing his hands through James’, “did you wait for me all this time?”

“Of course,” James said, “I couldn’t go on without you.”

“Well then,” Q said, looking out of the window and towards the stars which dotted the night’s sky, “shall we be off?”

“Let’s go find what’s on the other side,” James said, as they stepped towards the open window. Suddenly, the stars began to shine brighter than before, until the window was filled with a bright white light.

“Together,” Q said.

“Together,” James agreed.


	2. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underneath the layers of science and fact is a layer of wonder. It hides between the particles in atoms, flows through the dust clouds and out into the galaxies, just hidden out of the sight of reality. It is this place that James and Q call home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rum drew a beautiful [picture](http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/post/57598747902/for-cass-x-click-here-for-the-first-pic-in) so I wrote a thing.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

The universe is always far more complicated than it looks.

Humans, for example, always assume that the stars that were in the night sky were _all_ the same. Of course, their maths and their physics, can all describe what they see with precise detail, so what was out there _has_ to be true.

Yet they forget that not everything was as it always seems. Underneath the layers of science and fact is a layer of wonder. It hides between the particles in atoms, flows through the dust clouds and out into the galaxies, just hidden out of the sight of reality.

It is in this realm that the Starlighters live, those who care for the Stars that are born into the galaxies above the worlds.

x-x-x

“So I lived in a jar?” James asks, peering into the box. Q smiles, gently placing the protostar back in with its fellow Stars. These stars are young, they barely light up the small box they are held in.

“Not exactly,” Q smiles, shutting the box, “M tended and cared for you until she gave you into my care.”

“How did you feel about that?” James asks.

Q smirks, dismissing the box of Stars into the Otherness, the place between existence and non-existence. Below them, the vast expanse of space unfolds in its multitude of wonder. This is Q’s favourite quadrant, with the galaxies swirling beneath him. Below him is James’s galaxy. Being a Supernova, James is right at the centre of each of the arms, controlling its spin through the universe.

And because it’s James’ galaxy, it’s Q’s favourite.

“Q, what are you thinking?” James asks, hand gently reaching out to tilt Q’s chin upwards. They take human forms at the moment, even though they are merely thoughts passing through the realm of reality.

“Just how beautiful your galaxy is,” Q claps James’ hand within his own, “you truly make it shine.”

“You taught me how,” James said, “I wouldn’t be able to tend to all my Stars without your guidance and teaching.”

“Teaching?” Q raises his eyebrow, “I remember a certain someone deciding to flare up the celtron quadrant just to give one of the arms of your galaxy a light show.”

“But they did enjoy it,” James smirks, and Q can’t help but feel himself melt under James’ gaze. Q can feel his form shimmer slightly as he loses concentration for a moment.

“You want to take a tour?” James smiles, wrapping his arm around Q. Q grins, leaning in to kiss James.

They _shift,_ jumping across space and time. In mere moments, Q finds himself standing on top of the surface of one of the planets that is within James’ galaxy. The air is thick here, moisture presses around him. It is warmer here than in the deepest parts of space, and to Q who has never been so close to one of the planets before it feels like a comforting blanket being wrapped around his shoulders.

“Where are we?” Q asks, looking up at James. James smiles, pulling Q in close to him.

“Earth,” James whispers, pointing up into the sky, “and that’s home up there.”

Q doesn’t follow James’ finger, instead staring at James. He has grown up so much, ever since Q started caring for him when here was barely a glimmer of light in M’s jars. Now he care for his own galaxies as tenderly as Q cares for him. James is more beautiful than anything in the universe, in Q’s opinion.

“You know,” Q whispers, leaning in to James’ embrace, “it’s perfect.”

“Only before you’re here to share it with me,” James replies.

They stand there, watching the stars float above in the night sky, until the sun breaks across the horizon. If a human was looking hard enough, they would see the edges of the two human shapes shimmer in the bright sunlight, breaking apart like the morning mist, leaving only wet footprints in the ground.


	3. Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James stumbles upon Q practicing with a Quaterstaff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

James watched in fascination.

He knew Q kept fit, and sometimes like to use the gym down in the basement of MI6, just next to Q branch, but this was something different. It was the total focus of concentration on Q’s face as he swung through the different forms, the quarterstaff following just as swiftly.

Q didn’t notice James as he slipped into the corner of the room. Again and again, he swung through the different forms, bare skin shimmering with sweat. It was entrancing watching Q swing through the movements, every pose of his body perfectly placed to hold his balance. There was a silent power in every step Q took, the same power that Q would use on Q branch with his voice to silence everyone in the room. It was the power of the unexpected, the ones who underestimated Q, the ones who Q would easily weave his mind around and make them do exactly want he wanted.

Q paused, snapping the quarterstaff up in the rest position, hands holding the base of the weapon with a practised grip.

“James?” Q’s chest heaved as he caught his breath, “what are you doing down here?”

“Watching you,” James smiled, nodding at the quarterstaff, “how long have you been doing that for?”

“A number of years,” Q shrugged, as if it where nothing, “it helps me concentrate.”

“I can see that,” James said, shrugging off his suit jacket and begun to unbutton his shirt. Q paused, mouth half open as James shrugged off his shirt and let it fall to the floor.

“What-” Q started.

“I can hardly move in that,” James smirked, walking over to the small area Q had marked out to practise his forms in, “can you teach me?”

“I can hardly refuse now can I?” Q laughed, swinging the staff around to hold it out to James, “now you’ve undressed yourself.”

“I’m just following the dress code your setting,” James remarked, nodding to Q’s similar state of dress.

“Any excuse to get your top off,” Q smiled, jabbing James lightly with end of the staff, “now let’s get started, this is harder than it looks.”

James merely raised an eyebrow.


	4. Called It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill tries to get Q to spill the beans on his date with James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum who prompted 'Rum - Tanner was actually Q's babysitter for a long time and he always pulls the 'I've changed your diapers, I have all the right to know about your life now' every time Q doesn't update him on his relationship with Bond' Hope you like it dear! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Q, you have to tell me,” Bill said, closing the lid of Q’s laptop. Q glared at the other man, opening up the laptop again.

“No, I do not,” Q replied, “you’re only down here because Eve sent you.”

“I’m here because I’m _interested,”_

“Nosey more like it,”

“Well I was the one who babysat you when you a kid,”

“Yes, I don’t know if Grandma actually put that in your contract.”

“When M asked a favour I did it,” Bill replied, “now tell me.”

“I am a grown man who can have his own life.”

“I’ll give you funding for an exploding pen.”

Q paused in his typing, looking up at Bill with a glint in his eye.

“Two,” Q said, “and funding for another palm-print gun.”

“Two pens,” Bill said, “now give me news.”

Q rolled his eyes.

“You always were irritating,” Q smirked.

“I remember you being the temper tantrum child,” Bill said, “deconstructing computers everywhere you went.”

“I didn’t have tantrums,”

“You did when windows failed you,”

“It is a well-known fact that windows is crap,” Q typed a few more lines of code onto his computer, “that tantrum was justified.”

“Hacking into your Grandmother’s security system and resetting the alarm codes was not,” Bill said, “I don’t think I got S Club 7 out of my head for a year afterwards.”

Bill paused, frowning at Q.

“You _did_ go on a date didn’t you?”

Q bit his lip, a bad habit from his childhood whenever he did something outrageous.

“Not quite.”

“You slept with him didn’t you?” Bill grinned, and Q gave the man a pointed glare.

“I can do whatever I like,” Q said.

“Coming from the man who said he _wouldn’t_ be seduced by the infamous 007,” Bill said.

“I said that without knowing what he looked like,” Q said. Bill pulled out his phone, tapping away at the keyboard with practised ease.

“What are you doing?” Q asked.

“Eve owes me a tenner,” Bill said, “because I _called_ it.”


	5. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James always had been a James, and always would be a James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted 'Anon - 00Q prompt: James is female-to-male trans. He took time while he was "dead" after being shot off the train to transition and had various surgeries and came back to MI6 as close to being physically male as possible with current medical science.' I hope you like it!
> 
> A/N: As someone who is cis-gender, I might have got something wrong terminology/description wise. If so, please tell me and I'll correct it! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

James always had been a James, and always would be a James.

It was sad how ignorant some people could be. After all, gender was a construct of the mind not the body. Every mind was different, every person was different. Some people were comfortable in the bodies they had been given at birth, others were more comfortable in another body given to them by science.

When James strode into Q branch after he had returned, Q noticed the difference. Not in the physical body, of course James now had a lower voice and a wider jaw, as well as the other numerous physical changes of transitioning. No, there was a glint in his eye that Q had never seen, something that gave James an extra step of confidence as he walked. Q couldn’t even begin to fathom how hard it was mentally for James to undergo the transition when he had been “dead”, as far as Q knew he had been by himself, trying to stay under MI6’s radar.

“Hello, James,” Q said, smiling broadly at James as he paused at Q’s desk. He really did look good in the suit he wore, it was snug on his broader shoulders as well as around the hips.

“Q,” James replied, a small smile appearing on his face. His voice resonated, deeper and broader than it had been before. Now it sounded like a mountain lion, strong and bold in its tone and texture.

“Welcome back,” Q held out his hand, and James shook it firmly, “I’m glad you’re alive, after all who would I have to try out my gadgets on?”

“Did you manage the exploding pen?” James asked. Q smiled, opening one of his draws and pulling out a small box which he passed to James. James opened it, eye lighting up when he saw the contents.

“Don’t set it off unless in an emergency,” Q said, “there is enough of a ‘bang’ in there to level this building.”

“You know me too well, Q,” James said, snapping the box shut again, “I’ll try not to destroy MI6 shall I?”

“Silva’s already done that for us,” Q said, tapping his fingers across the keypad, “now what do you think of this?”

The graphics generator behind Q brought up a swirling picture behind Q.

“It’s like trying to solve a Rubix Cube that is fighting back,” Q said, tapping away furiously. James, interest piqued, peered at the numbers spiralling down the side of the screen.

“Granborough road - it’s an old train station on the Metropolitan line,” James said, “it’s been closed for years. Use that as a key.”

Q did as James suggested. The Code unravelled itself, revealing a map of the underground.

“James,” Q said, “did I ever mention you are fantastic?”


	6. Kisses in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they kiss, it’s outside James’ apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who is wonderful beyond all comprehension
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

The first time they kiss, it’s outside James’ apartment.

Q doesn’t expect it. Well, he _does,_ but at the same time he doesn’t. He’s so used to the tight feeling in his stomach whenever James walks into Q branch, he forgets how this is all supposed to work. It’s awkward, it’s clumsy, and as the rain continues to pour from the sky, it is just _perfect._

James knows what he is doing, because it’s _James Bond_ who’s wrapping his hand around the back of Q’s neck and tilting his chin up. Q can do nothing but follow, leaning into James’ wet shirt and planting his hands firmly on the agent’s shoulders. James lowers his head just slightly, enough to ghost a kiss across Q’s lips as he wraps his other arm around Q’s back to pull the two of them together.

Q can’t resist it any longer, closing the gap between them. James tastes of whiskey and raindrops, and Q can’t resist but revel in the tastes and touches that dance across his lips. Q wraps his arms around James’ neck, sliding his hand through James’ wet hair as he deepens the kiss. He can feel James smile slightly, as the agent pulls away so his face lies mere centimetres from Q’s.

“Q,” James says, and the letter is loaded with far more than the meaning of a name. It is laced with passion and desire, with want and need, and Q can’t help but feel his gut twist as he realises that this is _James_ who he has his arms wrapped around in the rain.

“James,” Q replies, as he leans in to kiss James again. Their shirts are soaked, the material becoming a second skin as opposed to a material covering. Q can feel every muscle move in James’ neck as the agent kisses back, and he can’t help but slide his hand from James’ back and to his front, fingers scraping against the taught muscles of James’ chest.

Thoughts stop, and suddenly all of Q’s senses are consumed with _James._ He doesn’t care that the office might talk, or that people will suggest things, it’s just this moment, this powerful moment that consumes him to the very root of his soul. He can feel the fire in his gut flare up with every touch James gives to him, passion rioting inside his skull the kisses became more frantic, desperate, until Q pulled away to catch his breath.

Both of their chests heave, and Q looks deep into James’ blue eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and Q is close enough to see the individual flecks of blue that made up James’ irises, the colour changing as James analyses Q’s face with like a predator would its prey.

“Inside,” Q says. It is more of a command, a plea for James to give him more _._

“Yes,” James’ voice made Q shiver with delight, as they stumbled back towards James’ flat. Keys are fumbled with, quick kisses stolen between the door opening and then they are falling inside, wrapped in the other’s embrace.

The flat door closed again, shutting out the weather. Rain continues to hammer down on the door.

Inside, James and Q sell their souls to each other.

Forever.


	7. The One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiny is the force that leads Q to James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Anon who prompted 'Destiny/magic realism would be great. And kisses?'. I hope you like this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Q watches the curtains flutter in front of the open window. Today doesn’t feel special, it’s no different to the many other days he’s lived through so far.

Yet today _is_ different. Today he meets his One, the person he will spend the rest of his life with.

Q tugs at the corners of his sleeves nervously. He doesn’t know how it’ll happen, or when, just that it’s sometime _today._ It’s the day he’s memorised his entire life, he knows the numbers of today’s date like the back of his own hand.

“You can do this, Q,” he mutters to himself, squaring his shoulders. His nerves chew at the inside of his stomach, and he can feel the gentle tug of Destiny on his shoulders as it tried to direct him to the One.

“Okay,” Q says, shutting his eyes and allowing the gentle tug of Destiny to lead his steps.

He walks, but he doesn’t plan where he was walking. Q simply throws on his coat, locks his house and just strides off down the street. The morning commute hasn’t even begun at this time, which means that Q finds himself walking down empty roads, following the tune of Destiny.

Even after all this time, the sound of Destiny still sounds totally different to anything in the real world. Apparently, everyone hears a different tune depending on who was their Destiny. Q’s tune began when he was 10 years old, a gentle strumming of the guitar in the background of his everyday life. Now, there is a definite beat of a drum behind the strumming, like the verse of a song before it hits is final chorus. It is as if Destiny itself was telling Q to move, to keep living for the One it had picked out for Q.

Q walks for hours, the sound of the drums growing louder in his mind as he did so. By the time he pauses for breath, his feet and calves ache with the exercise. He scans the scenery around him. He stands in the centre of London, it’s all coffee shops around here, each one setting out the tables and chairs for the day. A few commuters are busy diving into the shops, getting their morning coffee before work. Q’s hand curls around the sleeve of his coat as he looks around, trying to find where Destiny is trying to send him. The drumming is like an incessant noise inside his head, louder than his heartbeat, pounding inside like the wardrums heard in times gone by.

Then Q sees him.

Q doesn’t know who _he_ is yet, just that the drumming sound ceases immediately as Q lays his eyes upon the other man. Tall, blond hair, with his hands curled around a cup of tea in front of one of the coffee shops, _he_ just scans the crowd, listening to his own song of Destiny.

That silence, that one moment, is what Q has been waiting for his entire life. The other man locks gazes with Q, mouth dropping open just a little for Q to know that he is _seen._ Q’s feet just naturally carry himself across to the coffee shop, heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Hey,” Q says, unsure of how to begin the conversation. The man smiles, and Q finds himself drawn into the most intoxicating blue eyes he has ever seen. Maybe it’s Destiny that drives him forward, maybe it’s just his own feelings that bubble up inside, but Q finds himself smiling a broad, open smile at the other man.

“James,” the man, James says with a smile that matches Q’s own, holding his hand out to Q.

Q takes James’ hand firmly. It’s an anchor, a point of contact that will define Q for the rest of his life.

“Q” he replies.


	8. Bouquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James catches the bouquet at Eve's wedding for Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted 'Could you write a drabble where Q and Bond goes to a wedding and the bride's bouquet somehow lands with one of them?' Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Eve looks lovely,” Q said, as Eve and her husband, Ben walked out of the church. Most of MI6 was here, after all Eve was the one who organised MI6, along with M and Tanner. Ben worked in the Analyst department, so it really was a secret service wedding. Q himself had rigged the security for the event, putting a few secret codes into the system so if anyone tried to hack their way into the servers their computer would play the _Star Wars Cantina_ Theme on repeated loop.

“I think she’s just glad the wedding is finally done,”

“Done?” Q raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Over, complete, no more wedding planners for her to have to deal with,” James explained.

“I hardly think after helping run one of Britain’s top security sections a wedding planner would be difficult,” Q said, as Eve and Ben kissed on the steps, “although it would explain why she asked if I could make a dart to go in the heel of her shoe.

“Dart the wedding planner?” James nodded, impressed, “I suppose you could just break his neck.”

The comment received a glare from one of Ben’s distant family relatives who stood a few places down from James. James shot the man his best ‘I know how to kill people’ smile, as Q elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oi, bouquet time,” Q said. Eve scanned over the wedding congregation, a small smile appearing on her lips. Q frowned slightly, trying to work out what Eve was suggesting with her expression.

Eve threw the bouquet high into air, still smiling at Q. It was only when Q realised just where the trajectory of the flowers was heading that he glared at Eve, refusing to reach up and grab the flowers that were plummeting towards his head-

James’ hand snatched the flowers out of the air. Eve winked at Q suggestively, as Ben wrapped his arm around his wife. James smirked, handing the bouquet to Q as he kissed him on the cheek.

“I think Eve want’s us to be next,” James whispered n Q’’s ear.

“If that’s the case,” Q replied, “please don’t murder the wedding planner.”


	9. Times Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James comes home and there is someone who looks like Q but isn't Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Anon who prompted 'Bond comes home to who he thinks is Q but actually its his identical twin' I played about with it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Q?” James asked as he walked into the house. There was something different, something not quite right in the air as James shut the door behind him.

“Hey,” Q’s head popped out from the kitchen door, a grin covering his face. He frowned slightly at James’ confused expression.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know,” James muttered. Q smirked, as if he knew something that James didn’t, but James ignored it and stalked into the kitchen and straight to the drinks cabinet. He was going mad, there had to be _something_ wrong, he could feel it.

“Something’s not right,” James said, as he pulled a glass out of the cupboard and pouring a liberal amount of alcohol into the bottom of it. The golden colour refracted the light, shimmering around his hand as he swirled it thoughtfully.

“Really?” Q smirked, leaning on the sideboard. James studied the other man, frowning. It was something in the way Q stood, the way he talked that just didn’t sound _right._ James had been through enough training to note when someone wasn’t quite the same. The problem was that he couldn’t see just _what_ was different-

It was then that a _second_ Q walked into the room.

“I’m very disappointed you didn’t notice it first, James,” the real Q said, adjusting his glasses on his nose and giving James the look he knew well from when he bought back his equipment in small pieces.

“What?” James spluttered, staring between the actual Q and the Q which had met him at the door.

“My identical twin brother,” Q said, “Greg here wanted to see if you could fall for the ‘swap the sibling’ joke.”

“You’re good,” the other Q, Greg said. Now it was pointed out to him, James could see the subtle difference in the way the two brothers stood. Q was naturally used to giving order, with a straighter back and raised chin. Greg, on the other hand, seemed to have a tendency to lower his chin, look more submissive of the two brothers.

“I try to be,” James replied with a smirk.

Q merely rolled his eyes.


	10. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James can't help but find the sunrise on Planet Earth captivating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who listens to my CAPS LOCK squee.
> 
> This is in the same universe as [Starlight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1777789) .
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Mist rises up from the ground like a ghost, settling across the horizon in a haphazard strip. Above, the sky is a mottled blue as the last refuges of the night are pushed away by the light which creeps above the skyline. It’s not light enough yet to see more than the outline of the trees that nestle to the left of the view, dark shapes which the mind tricks and turns into monsters and creatures that no one on this Earth has seen before.

This moment in time, the snapshot of the morning as it rises to greet a new day, is James’ favourite. When he is out among the stars, floating in space he forgets how life sees the universe. It doesn’t get to see the vast expanse of _blackness_ that echoes across the corners of existence, it doesn’t get to see the supernovas which tend to the galaxies or the creatures which swim between the layers of the universe, driving creation forward.

And yet, James thinks that the view that the rest of the mortals see. They see the miniscule, the insect scuttling across the leaf or the wind drifting through the trees. On this planet in the corner of one of the arms of James’ galaxy, there is a quiet and understated feeling of peace. The world as it awakens has a whole new day full of unknown possibilities, full of new things to see and to do. Sometimes, life does find it hard to see the beauty in the world around them, James knows this well because he has watched countless human after human scuttle backwards and forwards between their destinations without a cursory glance to the world around them.

Sometimes, however, a child will stop and point at a leaf and marvel in its beauty. Maybe another human will hear a song, or see a cloud pass above the sky and feel the same wonder and amazement. The feeling doesn’t have to last for long, after all these moments are fleeting and barely take up a moment of a lifetime.

“Down here again?”

James turns, coat swishing against the wheat in the field. Q’s form coalesced from thin air like the same mist which lined the horizon.

“Just for a short visit,” James says, holding out his hand, “now I want you to come and see something.”

“What?” Q asks.

“They have something down here known as ice cream,” James says, “I know you have a sweet tooth.”

“You can’t keep tempting me with sweet things,” Q smiles, taking James’ hand.

“But I know you just fall for it anyway,” James replies, “come on, I found this marvellous coffee shop where they sell ice cream _and_ tea.”

“Sounds perfect,” Q replies.

They disappeared instantaneously, leaving only a small whirlpool in the mist that showed where they had stood moments before.


	11. Eat your Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James gets ill, and it's up to Q to try and nurse him back to health again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who asked me for some fluff! Hope you like it darling! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“You know for a brave and fearless agent, you really do make a bad patient,” Q remarked as he kicked open the door. James groaned from the bed, pulling the bedcovers over his head to make Q disappear.

“I’m not a bad patient,” James’ said, muffled by the blankets. Q clicked his tongue, putting the tray with the on it tea and soup on the bedside table, before ripping the covers from James’ grasp. The agent was curled into a ball, face drawn with illness and exhaustion. However, he was still able to shoot Q a disgruntled glance from where he was curled up.

“Yes you are,” Q said, forcefully pulling James up into a sitting position. The Agent could have quite easily stopped Q from moving him, but he allowed the weaker Quatermaster to manoeuvre him into position.

“Now shuffle up,” Q said, making James shift along the bed a little so Q could sit down.

“You can’t feed me the soup,” James said.

“I can and I will,” Q said picking up the soup bowl and spoon, “my mother’s chicken broth recipe can cure all aliments.”

“All?” James grimaced, looking at the soup doubtfully.

“You didn’t eat much yesterday,” Q said, hand James the bowl, “now I’m going to make sure you eat it.”

“Q, you really don’t have to mother hen me,” James said.

“Whatever you say,” Q said, smiling at James. It was so odd seeing the usually controlled and poised agent frowning at the steaming bowl of soup with such distaste. Q thought it was oddly endearing to see James like this, he always refused to go to medical whenever he caught something yet here he was poking the soup with his spoon as if he was considering eating it.

“Why do you do it?” James asked.

“What?” Q asked.

“Look after me?” James asked, “it’s not in your remit as Quartermaster.”

“I know that,” Q said, pressing a kiss to James’ temple, “but as your love I have to make sure you’re alright. You would do the same for me after all.”

James smiled, twisting his head slightly so Q could kiss him on the lips. Q smiled as James tried to lean into the kiss, but Q pulled away at the last moment.

“Don’t try and seduce me, Mr Bond,” Q said sternly, “eat your soup.”

“I thought you would fall for it,” James said.

“I fell for you,” Q poked James on the arm, “so I know what you’re like. Now eat your soup.”


	12. Eon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hasn't spoken to Q for eons. Or maybe it is minutes, after all time is not a concept with truly exists in the universe at all. All James can tell is that there in an ache in his heart which cannot be solved by creating new galaxies or admiring the beauty of space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum and adreaminglamb, who have both drawn some beautiful pictures of Starlighter!00q.
> 
> This is in the same universe as [Starlight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1777789) and [Sunrise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1812595).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Time is not a part of reality.

It is a construct of the mind, intervals placed on the ebbs and flows of the universe by sentient beings who wish for control. The forces which govern the stars and the planets do not define themselves by time, but by the invisible strings that tie all of the universe together. The planets, the stars, the bodies of the solar system all shape the universe and at the same time are shaped _by_ the universe. It is a paradox, a confusing system of rules with boundaries that are always changing.

Distance, however, is a part of reality.

It’s the distance between one body and another that describes how it moves through space. It’s the distance between two minds that says if they are compatible or not. It is distance which is described in the language of numbers, distance which defines the universe and the parameters it exists in.

James floats about one of his galaxies, a beautiful rose-shaped cluster of stars and worlds which dance under his feet. His form shimmers, as the thousands of particles that fly through space simply pass _through_ him on their passage through the universe. In this form, he is just a mind, a thought which is held together with sheer force of will.

He reaches out slightly, gently pushing one side of the galaxy back into place where the colours have bled out into the space around it. The stars react instinctively, knowing the touch of their creator and caretaker, as forces not known to reality gently pushes them back into line once more. This galaxy truly is a work of art, the reds and yellows of the nebulas which swirl within it are like watercolour paints drifting into one another, whilst the stark white and yellow light flaring from the thousands of stars provide the sharp dots of light upon the canvus.

He hasn’t spoken to Q for eons. Or maybe it is minutes, after all time is not a concept with truly exists in the universe at all. All James can tell is that there in an ache in his heart which cannot be solved by creating new galaxies or admiring the beauty of space. It echoes inside his head, it thrums through his entire body, as he allows the image of Q to appear before him in his mind’s eye. It’s more than a feeling, it’s a connection, an understanding that is just stumbled upon and provides the basis for a bond far deeper than James can explain.

Q has been building on the other side of the universe, guiding the new supernovas through their tasks as they continue to create the galaxies which will take what humans would call a millennia to germinate. James could turn and point to the exact direction where Q is right now, he can feel the gentle _tug_ on the connection which flows between them.

Yet it is the fact that Q is not _here,_ by his side that makes James feel this way. This endless floating, this limbo status where James can’t do anything _but_ think of Q, because it is Q who consumes every waking thought. The lack of Q’s presence makes the ache even greater, as James’ mind twists and turns to try and cope with the vacuum by his side.

James turns away from the rose galaxy, instead tugging at the piece of space which is directly in front of him. He can feel the smooth texture of space mould and change under his touch, as he gently caresses the sub atomic particles to react and spark against one another. James is well practised at this now, and soon there is a very small star sitting in the palm of his hand. It pulses out light as the reaction stabilises itself, illuminating the swirling mist that makes up James’ hand.

“Hello,”

James almost drops the star in surprise, as Q’s shape swirls out of the black space next to him. The smile comes unbidden to James’ face as Q reaches out to scoop the star from James’ hand and place it in the rose-shaped galaxy beneath their feet.

“I know I’ve been gone for some time,” Q says, floating closer to James, “but I’ll always come back.”

James reaches out to take Q’s hand and lace his fingers between the Starlighter’s.

“I know,” James replies.


	13. Condor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drawers, like Q, could see a person’s inner spirit and depict it upon their back. At the moment, he could see the mighty condor winging its way across James’ back, flapping its wings at intervals to keep its height.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who listens to my Squee. This is a little ficlet based off her Tattooed!Q verse,
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“It suits you,” Q said, trailing a hand down James’ back. A black mark followed his finger, welling up on the tanned skin and forming a crisp black line. Q smiled, it had been a while since he had Drawn on someone, and being able to Draw on James was something he had wanted to do for a while.

Drawers, like Q, could see a person’s inner spirit and depict it upon their back. At the moment, he could see the mighty condor winging its way across James’ back, flapping its wings at intervals to keep its height. The words of the Drawing came naturally to Q, as natural as breathing, as he encouraged the black line to well up across James’ skin in the outline of the bird.

 “It hurts,” James mumbled from the pillow. Q smirked, placing his lips mere millimetres from James’ skin as he muttered the words that would seal the line. James winced as Q whispered the final syllable, the black line thickening as the magic hardened its outline.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Q said, cocking his head slightly. He had finished the wings of the condor, which spread out across James’ back as if the bird had just taken flight. Whenever James flexed his shoulders, the black lines moved in a way which mimicked the natural gliding beats of the condor’s wings.

“I am not a baby,” James replied, trying to twist his head to see what Q was drawing. Q gave him a sharp glare, shoving James’ shoulder back against the soft pillows.

“Don’t move, this is an art,”

“This is painful,”

“You asked for it,”

“You didn’t mention the pain,” James mumbled into the pillow, wincing as Q begun to draw the centre part of the design with long strokes of his finger.

“Well I thought as a 00 agent you would be able to cope with the pain,” Q said, as he finished of the stroke.

“This isn’t the pain of a cut-” James started

“It’s because I’m drawing your soul onto your back,” Q said, as he started the other line, muttering the words under his breath. When skin was Drawn on, it didn’t well up the same as when someone got a tattoo done with ink. This was their soul, their natural form in the animal world which was drawn forth to create the lines. Souls couldn’t pucker or bruise the skin, after all it was skin which was the soul’s container.

“Almost done,” Q said, shifting backwards on the bed slightly to finish the tail of the condor. James grunted as Q switched to using his little finger to draw the intricate tail feathers at the bottom of the design. Touching James’ soul was a privilege and a pleasure, he could feel James’ soul reverberating under his touch, like a perfectly tuned note ringing out through an empty concert hall.

“And done,” Q said, clicking his fingers once to seal the entire design. James tensed up at the pain, but it was merely momentarily. James shifted, twisting around to look at Q with a smile. It was Q’s favourite, the smile James used when he stripped away the layers of his persona and just became _James._

“Come here,” James said, pulling Q up the bed so they were lying next to each other, arms wrapped around each other.

“Does it look good?” James asked. Q smiled.

“Perfect,” he replied.


	14. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Q lay on James’ chest, listening to the steady beat of the other’s heart, he was reminded of the fragility of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tracionn, who always gives me such beautiful comments.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

When Q lay on James’ chest, listening to the steady beat of the other’s heart, he was reminded of the fragility of life.

It wasn’t that James was fragile, not at all. No, as Q shut his eyes and listened to the steady _du dum, du dum, du dum,_ beating out in James’ chest, he just thought of how easy it would be for James’ heart to just _stop._

It was a ridiculous thought to have at one am, with James’ arm curled around him, but Q couldn’t help consider how easy it was to just _die._ James was human like every other person on the planet, just as mortal as the rest of them. To Q, James was his whole world with his shining blue eyes and deep laugh that would reverberate up through his chest whenever Q swore at his laptop.

And his heartbeat, the steady drumming inside his chest, is what allowed all of James to exist.

“Q?” James asked. Q twisted his head slightly so he could look up at James, a smile appearing unbidden on his lips.

“Yes?” Q asked, letting his hand drift up from James’ side to gently trace James’ jawline. James smiled, kissing Q’s hand lightly as he laced his finger’s between Q’s.

“What are you thinking?” James whispered.

There were many things Q was thinking. How wonderful James was, the feelings which bubbled inside his chest whenever James kissed him, the inarticulate feelings of pure _happiness_ whenever James pulled him close.

Q could still hear the steady beat of James’ heart.

_Du dum, du dum, du dum._

“I’m just listening to your heart,” Q whispered, shutting his eyes to focus on the sound. He could feel the rush of air as James breathed in, the muscles moving under his skin as he inhaled and exhaled.

But the heartbeat was constant, it was steady, it was the foundation upon which all of James was built.

And James had given it to him.

“What do you hear?” James asked.

_Du dum, du dum, du dum._

“Perfection,” Q replied.


	15. Railways and Raindrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q waits in the rain for James' train to finally arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

The rain hammered down against Q’s umbrella, raindrops drumming against the material incessantly. Q wasn’t even sure why he still had the umbrella, he was already soaked through completely.

James’ train was late. Of course it was bloody later, typical of British Rail to screw up on this one day that was supposed to be for _them._ They were supposed to have a holiday together, just the two of them surrounded by the empty and cold surroundings of the Lake District, where they could just be themselves for the day.

The original plan had been conceived of two years ago. Each time they had tried to organise it, something had come up. One time James had been drafted abroad at the last minute, to some god forsaken country where Q could only talk to him as 007 and not _James,_ other times Q had been stuck in the Branch helping one of the other operations whilst James waited at home alone.

Q had come a day early to sort out the hotel whilst James set about making sure no one could contact them. Q had already redirected all their phones to play the Star Wars theme on constant repeat if anyone tried to contact either of them.

The sky was heavy, thick with moisture and colour that seemed to weigh it down closer to the earth. The train station was deserted at this time, it was only a little station in the middle of nowhere that was as far off the beaten track that Q could find. Compared to the stations in London, this station was like the ones that would be plastered across the picturesque postcards in the souvenir shops. The tiles that made up the open roof were stained brown with moss, and it was clear that the gutters hadn’t been cleared in years as the water cascaded over the plastic in a sheet that separated Q from the track. However, the wind that rushed across the platform pushed the water inwards, driving the rain beneath the supposed protection of the roof. Even the metal seat, whose green paint had flaked off many years before, was starting to become colder. Q could feel the bite of wet metal bars through his soaked jeans, as he wrapped his hands tighter around the umbrella handle.

 _Come on James,_ Q thought, _I’m getting wet here._

Just as the thought drifted from his mind, he heard the noise of a train drown out the drumming of the rain. In the watery haze, Q could just about see the lights of the train as it slowed down approaching the station. Metal screeched as the train applied its brakes, and the huge metal machine slowly grinded to a halt in front of the platform.

Q peered down the platform, noting that only one set of carriage doors slid open. A smile appeared on his face as he recognised the familiar shape of James stumble out of the carriage, hand held up against the rain that drummed into him.

“James!” Q called, jumping up from the seat and wincing in pain as his frozen limbs moved. James smiled Q’s favourite grin, the one that made Q’s insides knot whenever James used it. It was the most genuine smile that James could give, no façade of 007 covering it. It was a smile that lit up James’ entire face, the bright blue eyes sparking against the dark grey backdrop that hung behind him.

In moments, Q had his arms wrapped around James’ neck, planting a kiss against James’ lips. Q held the umbrella over both of their heads, as James wrapped his arms around Q’s waist and smiled against Q’s lips.

“Q,” James said, his voice rumbling deep within his chest, “you’re not too cold I hope?”

“Not now you’re here,” Q could help but let the smile grow on his face, “shall we go somewhere dryer?”

“Just my thinking,” James pressed a kiss to Q’s lips, “now we can finally have our holiday.”

“Even if the weather is crap,” Q remarked. James smiled in reply.

“I have you,” James said, “and with you here it doesn’t matter what the weather is like.”


	16. In the Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drowning is the worst way to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : Drowning, angst, death.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Death, you think, is terrifying.

It’s just so quiet down here, in the depths. Even your heartbeat is quiet, as if recognising the silence that lies around you. On the surface, the water has noise. It crashes against the shore, the waves roll and churn against one another as they lick the air which brushes over them.

Down here, the water is like a ghost. You know it is there, you can feel its sticky touch against your skin, your eyes sting as you try to look up towards the surface, towards the light that breaks through the first few layers of water. That light looks like mere pinpricks, like the stars twinkling high in the night sky. With every passing second, those stars become dimmer as you are dragged down, the light fading away as your sight blurs and the water begins to crush you with the force of giants.

You want to scream, you _try_ to scream but down here there is no noise. Instead the water just rushes into your lungs like molten iron, burning your insides as it continues to crush you from the outside. You try to scrabble against the water, try to find some purchase against the strength of the weight which is pushing you down into the darkness.

But you can’t fight nature. You can’t fight the immense pressure that is slowly tearing your insides apart.

The pain is immense now, you can barely see and your limbs grow heavier. It’s hard to make sense of anything anymore, after all your brain is slowly shutting down as oxygen fails to get to it.

You know this. After all, you’re MI6’s computer genius. Of course you know this.

You’re dying.

In the last few moments you feel arms wrap around you. Or maybe they don’t, you’re not sure any more. But you like to think that you’re being rescued from your watery grave, that you’re being pulled up towards the light again.

Someone whispers your name. Or you think they do, you are held onto life by a single thread which is fraying with every weakening heartbeat.

 _Q,_ the voice says again.

 _James,_ you reply in your mind.

The thread snaps. The pain ends.

Death, you think, isn’t actually terrifying at all.

It’s peaceful.


	17. It's a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Q branch minions trap James and Q in Q's office with a pile of kittens to make them go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted 'the Q-branch minions ARE the 00Q fandom'. Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

You think they know? Q and James peering out of Q’s office as the minions are all discussing something - try to hack into Qs email etc

“Have they gone yet?” James asked from under Q’s desk. Q peered over the top of the glass window in his office door out at the rest of Q branch.

“Nope,” Q sighed, sliding down the door, “how long is this now?”

“3 hours,”

“I am going to _murder_ them,” Q muttered.

“Murder?” James asked, “we must be getting desparate. I didn’t realise I was _that_ bad company.”

“You’re not,” Q said, nodding towards the box of kittens in the corner. The small felines had begun scrambling about Q’s office, and Q was far too tired to try and put them _back_ in the box again.

“Kitten?” James laughed, “the great and mighty Q is defeated by _kittens_ of all things.”

“It’s more that the rest of Q branch-”

“Your minions,” James interrupted.

“- decided that it would be a good idea to lock us in my office with a pile of kittens,” Q continued.

“Have you tried to hack the system again?” James asked.

“Keeps coming up with the same message,” Q said, picking up the tablet he had thrown across onto the floor an hour ago. The words _ASK HIM OUT AND WE’LL LET YOU OUT_ continued to flash across the screen.

“You know,” James said, “we could just do as commanded.”

“Is this you propositioning to me, 007?” Q asked, “or giving in to threats?”

James smiled. Q’s stomach flipped.

“As if I ever give into threats,” he replied.

“So a proposition then?” Q remarked, “I thought you were more of a romantic.”

“I can do romantic,” James grin grew wider, “what are you doing Friday?”

“Nothing, now.”

“Dinner then?”

“It’s a date,”

James chuckled.

“It most certainly is,” he replied.


	18. Not a Common Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James only learns about Q's past life when he watches the streamed video of the Quartermaster's torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted 'Q has been kidnapped. MI6, including Bond, are streamed footage of his interrogation.' Hope you like it! :)
> 
>  **WARNINGS** \- Implied torture.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“We need to get someone _in there,”_ James growled as he paced back and forth across the room. M, Eve and Tanner were all huddled around the small screen that flickered as the picture changed.

James knew what the picture contained, he had been looking at it for the past three hours.

Q was strapped to a chair in the middle of the picture, face bruised and bloody. His captors had been merciless in their vicious attacks, and James knew it would not be long before Q cracked like an egg.

Torture, after all, only required time to complete it properly.

“We can’t,” M said, “this is something that Q needs to solve for himself.”

“Himself?!” James’ voice broke, “how on earth will Q get out of there?”

M smiled knowingly.

“Our Esteemed Quatermaster has many more talents outside his computer skills,” M said.

“Q said he used to work on the wrong side of the law,” James said, “before he was recruited.”

“That is putting it mildly,” M pursed his lips, “the common criminal does not draw the attention of MI6 after all.”

“What are you saying?” James asked.

The screen flickered once more.

“Just watch this,” Eve commented, nodding towards the screen. James frowned in confusion, peering at the small black and white screen and trying to make out Q’s frame within the grainy picture. It looked exactly the same -

 _What?_ James thought, as he peered at the screen further. One of Q’s wrists hung down at the side of him instead of being tied behind his back. With the poor quality of the picture James wasn’t able to tell for sure, but it looked broken.

“Q is just as capable of getting out of there alive,” Eve commented quietly, “he was waiting.”

“For what?” James asked.

“They’ve told him everything we need,” Eve said, “even though there isn’t any sound these are amateurs at work here.”

James raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve told Q all he needs to know,” Eve remarked, nodding back towards the screen. Another figure, the one who had been beating Q up for the past few hours, came back into the picture again. James watched in fascination as Q hung his head resigned as the other man approached to punch him again.

However, instead of letting the punch land, Q moved before the other man’s hand could even connect with his face. Pixels blurred as the poor connection couldn’t keep up with the fast movements, all James could make out was some very well executed strikes that resulted with the other man on the floor and Q standing up.

James felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Eve smiled as James pulled the phone out to see the words _UNKNOWN NUMBER_ flashing on the screen.

He accepted the call and placed the phone next to his ear.

“Hello, James,” Q’s voice said. The bastard didn’t even sound like he was in pain.

“You have some explaining to do,” James said, gruffly. Q chuckled down the end of the phone.

“It looks like I do,” Q said, “tell M that I have the names and I don’t plan on hanging around for long.”

“You want an extraction team?” James asked. _It’s like our roles are reversed, it’s usually Q who asks_ me _if I want an extraction team._

“That would be lovely thank you , dear,” Q said, “must dash, I do want to get out of here in one piece.”

The phone went dead.

“He said he has the names,” James said, looking at the phone in confusion as if it would answer his questions.

“What did you say Q did before he was recruited?” James asked. M’s face was a perfect venire of calm as he replied;

“Q used to be one of the world’s best assassins.”


	19. Coffee and Cakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q and James run a coffee shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the wonderful Kelli, who prompted 'CoffeeShop!Au - fluffy and bickering'. Hope you like it dear!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Can I eat one?” Q asked, nodding to the plate of still warm cupcakes that sat on the side of the small kitchen. James was a fantastic baker, and the cakes smelt simply divine. It was one of the main reasons why their café received such booming trade every year, the customers couldn’t get enough of James’ creations.

“Only one,” James replied, as he peered into the oven as he watched the bread rise. Everything in the café was homemade to give it the authenticity that they both wanted.

“One?” Q gave James his best puppy dog eyes.

“Darling, if you eat any more there won’t be enough for the customers,” James replied, twisting around and giving Q a knowing smile, “even your best smile won’t mean you get more cake.”

“I’m hurt,” Q said, swiping one of the cakes from the cake stand and biting into it. It was a lemon cake, baked to perfection with tastes that melted Q’s core as the warmth from the cake spread through his mouth.

“Like it?” James asked, as he opened the oven and pulled out the fresh bread. Q’s stomach growled as the smell wafted through the room, intoxicating Q’s senses even further.

“Of course I like it,” Q said, taking another bite of the cake, “your cooking is divine.”

“Not as good as your coffee making,” James stood up and slid the fresh bread next to the cakes to cool down, “its your coffee that is the talk of the town.”

“Your cakes,”

“Coffee,”

“Cakes,”

“Agree to disagree?” Q smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of James’ lips.

“You win then,” James replied, sliding his arms around Q and pulling him close, “we make a good team.”

“I think so,” Q’s smile grew wider as he looked up at James, “you and I against the world.”

“Something like that,” James replied, leaning down to kiss Q, “something like that.”


	20. Lazy Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time, James found, was something he had never really valued before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tracionn who prompted 'I'd love some retirement sweetness please if that's okay? Maybe Q still works from home now and then, and Bond now and then teaches, or they just live in a house somewhere building explosives, or they just enjoy their free time'. I hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Time, James found, was something he had never really valued before.

It was as if now he could just watch time itself pass him by, and that wasn’t a bad thing. Before, when he had been working, he had always known that his life might end at any minute. He had kept up that mentality for so long that is felt so alien to wake up on a Sunday morning next to the man he loved and just admire the way the rays of sunlight would dance through the curtains and over him.

“Hey,” Q murmured, as he rolled over in the bed. James smirked, after all those days in MI6 where they had worked long hours under immense pressure he never would have thought Q would become one to value sleep.

“Hey,” James whispered quietly in reply. The room was silent apart from their gentle breathing, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was an understanding silence, a silence which spoke of feelings in a way which was far more powerful than any words could attempt to capture. It was the feeling that lit up James’ soul like a match against dry tinder, the feeling that made him feel whole again.

Love.

“What shall we do today?” James asked, wrapping his arms around Q and pulling the other tight to him. Q relaxed into James’ grip, twisting his head to smile up at the ex-agent.

“I don’t know,” Q smirked, “we could hack MI6 again.”

“Eve would send the entire 00 section after us, _again.”_

“You would have thought her being made M would have improved her sense of humour,” Q commented.

“I think that was her being humorous,” James said, pressing a kiss into the side of Q’s cheek, “go for a walk in the park?”

“You mean ‘take the piss out of the children’ again?”

“Nothing wrong with that,”

“Not in earshot of their parents it isn’t,” Q remarked, kissing James back, “lazy Sunday?”

“Lazy Sunday sounds good,” James replied.


	21. Drawer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tattoo that Q had drawn on him had already set across his skin, the black lines stark against the bright scar tissue that laced across James’ back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted 'anything with the tattoos or in the tattoo verse plz?'. Hope you like it!
> 
> Follow Up Ficlet to [Condor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1848994)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

James rolled his shoulders experimentally. The tattoo that Q had drawn on him had already set across his skin, the black lines stark against the bright scar tissue that laced across James’ back. A tattoo made by a Drawer held far more meaning than an ordinary tattoo, after all a Drawer could tease out the very essence of the subject’s soul and craft it with their fingers upon their skin.

Some scientists said that Drawers could see into another reality, a space occupied by thoughts and the essence of humanity itself. It was in that reality they could pull out the designs.

James walked quietly through the house, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet that settled across the walls. It was still odd to him how he had a _home_ that he shared with another, not just a base of operations. A small smile came unbidden to James’ face as he turned the corner into the small kitchen.

Q was making the tea, as he always did on a Sunday morning. Classical music floated lazily from the speakers Q had bought the other week, mingling in with the rain which drummed against the windows.

Q moved with an inherent grace, even just making the tea. As he moved in time with the music, his fingertips lazily drew in the air, leaving a trail of colours in their wake like the light following the trail of a sparkler on Bonfire night. The colour diffused into the air, swirling around Q as he moved about the kitchen. Only the most powerful Drawers could pull from the very power of the reality they saw the pictures in, painting pictures not just on skin but also in the very air that James breathed.

It was a truly beautiful sight, as the colours coalesced and swum around Q’s pale skin. It looked like the sharp, brilliant, powerful colours that existed only in the depths of the universe.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Q asked, shaking James out of his thoughts. The colours around Q slowly faded, dispersing like milk in tea until they disappeared completely.

“I thought you were doing just fine by yourself,” James replied, walking over towards Q and sliding his arms around the other’s waist. Q smiled, as he always did whenever James held him, a smile that lit up his entire face with a look of pure and undulated joy.

“How’s the back?” Q asked quietly, as the music and noise of the rainstorm outside continued to wrap around them.

“Fine,” James couldn’t help but smile, “fantastic actually, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Q reached up and kissed James gently, “and thank you for letting me see your soul.”

“My soul is yours, you know that,” James murmured in Q’s ear.

“As mine is yours,” Q replied.


	22. Lightstars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Think of the other galaxies that you have seen, the others that you’ve helped build. It’s all just simple rules built upon each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all those who comment on my fic because you're all wonderful.
> 
> This is in the same Starlighter universe as [Starlight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1777789), [Sunrise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1812595) and [Eon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1832206)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Rain.

James still found it amazing, the process of how water fell from the sky. It shouldn’t be remarkable, he knew this, after all he had seen the wonders of the universe unfold before his very eyes.

Yet there was something simple in the way the raindrops hit the metal railing in front of him, tapping away a tune of their own devising that fascinated him. It was the simplicity of the action that captured his interest, the way the drops continued to trail down the round edge of the metal before falling to the already sodden pavement underfoot. He enjoyed the cold sensation of the water falling against his form, sapping the heat from his hands as the drops continued to join its fellows on the floor. This was not the raw coldness of space, this was the coldness that came with life, the coldness that made the warmth of home and the warmth of a lover’s hug more precious.

The orange streetlight shimmered as the rain continued to lash downwards. Even though there was no wind on this night, James could still smell the bite of the salt from the sea which spread out in front of him, the water unbroken all the way up to the horizon.

“I thought I would find you here,” Q replied, voice sounding slightly bemused, “you had to pick the continent that was having the rainstorm didn’t you?”

“I like it,” James smiled as Q came over to join him, “its just simple.”

“Everything in the universe is simple if you break it down to small enough pieces,” Q said, gesturing upwards to the dark sky above, “think of the other galaxies that you have seen, the others that you’ve helped build. It’s all just simple rules built upon each other.”

James smirked.

“You sound like you’re teaching me how to make galaxies again,” he said, wrapping his arm around Q’s waist and pulling the other close to him. James could feel the warmth and the power that was Q under his touch, the very energy which had made James form nothing more than a spark of light into a sentient supernova.

“I’m still surprise you listened,” Q smiled, “considering you don’t build so many galaxies nowadays.”

“I’ll build some when there is the need for them,” James smiled, “for now I think those galaxies under our care need to be tended and guided to allow life to thrive.”

“You’re a sentimental idiot, you know that,” Q twisted to look at James. James smiled, brushing the wet hair out of Q’s eyes.

“Now who do I have to blame for that?” James remarked. He smiled slightly, pinching the point of space just in front of Q’s face and spinning it outwards in the way Q had taught him.

A small spark of light came into being.

“That’s you,” James said, “my spark of light.”

Q reached out to the space that was next to James’ light carefully drawing his finger in a complicated set of movement. Of course, Q was far more practised at creating lightstars than James which meant he could create ones that glowed and pulsated with a thousand different hues of reds and yellows.

The gravity the small lightstars exerted on each other meant that they began to revolve around one another, drawing closer and closer until they spun so far only a single light could be made out.

“And that’s us,” Q said.


	23. Invisible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was one thing Q was good at, it was being invisible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum who prompted me with the song "Laying Down in the Center of Tokyo" by 40m-P and then I wrote this.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

If there was one thing Q was good at, it was being invisible.

Not physically, that would be impossible. He just found it easy to blend in with the crowd, slipping backwards out of the limelight and into the shadows of the bustling streets of London. He liked it there, watching from the shadows. It gave him a kind of peace he couldn’t get anywhere else, it would allow him to be alone with his thoughts and just _think_ clearly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, he just found them exhausting. Or, not exhausting, but he couldn’t just stay _focused_ on the tedious day to day talk that threaded its way through the hundreds of conversations that he was involved in. Even at MI6, with the fast pace and the interesting work and the fact he was _the head of Q branch,_ Q felt it easy to slide into the shadows and just watch.

Too easy.

It was lonely, when no one saw who you were. Who you _truly_ were.

But then there was James. Stupid, perfect, silly James who everyone thought was this rough hard agent, but was in fact a perfect gentleman. There was a glint in his eyes, a slight warmth in his smile that spoke of far more than his cold exterior gave on.

Q noticed these things because he was good at noticing these things about people.

And because he loved James.

Which was why when Q found himself tapping away at his computer at 1 am in Q branch, he couldn’t fathom the proper words when James slid in through the door.

“Still here?” James asked. His voice was like smooth chocolate, acting like a balm on Q’s trouble thoughts.

Q gave him a quick smile, trying to bottle up the flash of happiness that flared up near his heart.

“Of course,” Q replied, keeping his voice even, “some of us write up our reports you know.”

“I’ll do it later,” James said, grin spreading further. Q couldn’t help but notice the way his blue eyes lit up with the smile, a genuine smile, that had no hint of the façade that James usually wore.

“What are you doing down here, anyway?” Q asked, “I thought you had left a few hours ago.”

“I did,” James said, walking up towards Q’s desk. He kept one of his arms firmly shoved behind his back, although James was practised enough to make it look almost natural.

Q still noticed anyhow.

“But as I was on my way home,” James said, “I walked past one of the markets, and couldn’t help think that you might like these.”

Q couldn’t stop the smile when James brought his hand out from behind his back to reveal a small bouquet of flowers.

“See I was thinking,” James said, voice dropping to a mere whisper, “that you haven’t had dinner yet.”

 He was barely standing a foot from Q now, the flowers held like a barrier between them.

“That would be correct,” Q replied. If he was honest, he was amazed he could barely form any words, his brain felt like it was scrambled.

“So,” James said, “would you like to go to dinner?”

“Me?” Q couldn’t help the question, it just leapt out of his mouth before he could stop it. This was _James,_ the James, _his_ James, asking out to dinner.

“Of course,” James grinned, “you never thought I would notice you?”

“Not really,”

“Well I’ve bought you flowers,” James said, stepping closer to Q, “and now asked you for dinner. consider yourself sufficiently noticed.”

 _Fuck it,_ Q thought.

Then he threw his arms around James’ neck and kissed him.


	24. Coma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had gotten to the point where Q couldn’t look at James hooked up to all those machines, with the tubes of liquid being pumped into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For i-ndil-cuimhne-ar-daniel who prompted me with [two pictures](http://i-ndil-cuimhne-ar-daniel.tumblr.com/post/63102636271/sorry-for-posting-these-gifs-without-source-but-i). Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.
> 
>  **Warning** : Angst, Coma

James found himself standing in a cave.

He didn’t understand _how_ he came to be standing in the cave, he just _was._ It was as if the cave was not there and then _there,_ just materialised around him out of nothingness. A cold wind swept in from the mouth of the cave, dragging with it the snow from the huge drifts outside. All James could see was a wall of white that stretched out across the mouth of the cave, the blizzard basically stopping his exit.

The gunshot wound to his head was still bleeding. Of course it was, it was just a scalp wound but James knew enough about wounds to know that it shouldn’t _still_ be bleeding. It had been bleeding for nearly a day.

Or was it two days?

He had gotten used to the idea of the blood just dripping down the side of his face, running down the edge of his jaw and staining the white collar of his shirt. It was comforting, in a macabre sort of way, because it reminded James that this place was not reality.

“Keep fighting,” James muttered. The cold bit into his skin with invisible teeth that were far sharper than anything in reality. It was as if his arms were being stabbed with thousands of tiny needles, each one pushing the cold air beneath his skin and into his very bones.

_This doesn’t exist. This isn’t real. I have to get back home._

_I have to get back to Q._

x-x-x

Coma.

Such a simple word. Four little letters placed in a specific order.

Who would have thought that such a small word could bring so much pain?

It had gotten to the point where Q couldn’t look at James hooked up to all those machines, with the tubes of liquid being pumped into his arms. He looked so small, so _alone_ amongst the web of wires and there was fuck all Q could do about it.

He just sat there, next to James, holding his hand.

Praying that he would wake up.

“Come back to me, James,” Q whispered, “please.”

x-x-x

James had known fear before.

But this was different. The enemy wasn’t some target that could be taken out. He was fighting against himself, fighting against his own body.

The snow was so cold, so _very_ cold. James couldn’t even think properly as the white cocoon continued to swirl around him, the snow flakes sticking to the sides of his face and sapping what little heat remained from his body out into the air. He couldn’t feel his limbs any more, apart from the intense numb feeling that throbbed through his body. Even his pulse was starting to become weaker, he could barely feel the irregular beat of his heart in his chest.

He was dying.

_Come back to me._

James could barely hear the words against the roar of the storm around him. Yet for inexplicable reason, they seemed to push the cold away from his bones just a little bit, give him some resolve to continue.

“I’m coming, Q,” James whispered.

x-x-x

Three weeks.

It was getting to the point where they were losing hope. The doctors had explained the changes, the probabilities with the stark harshness of maths and numbers, but they didn’t _understand._

James couldn’t die. Q couldn’t let James die.

He wouldn’t know what to do without him.

x-x-x

The storm stopped.

The snow just _stopped,_ and suddenly James found himself standing on a beach at night. There was not a star in the sky, but the moon shone brightly in the black night sky. There no noise, apart from the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore, lulling him into a sense of security.

Then he saw it.

Bobbing a few feet above the ground was a pure white light. It wasn’t bright enough to illuminate more than a few inches of sand below it, but it was enough for James to notice it.

With a thought, James was standing next to the light. It looked like an orb, perfectly circular and pulsating with light in time with the rhythm of James’ heart. James peered at the light, trying to make out the dark object that seemed to be suspended within the middle of it.

 _Here goes nothing,_ James thought, as he reached into the light and plucked the small object out from the middle of it.

It was a key.

The light became brighter, like a match flaring up after it had been struck on the side of the box. It stretched downwards, becoming rectangular in shape. James stumbled backwards, watching as the light solidified into a very real, very wooden door.

He looked down at the key in his hand and then up at the door.

 _Here goes nothing,_ James thought, as he strode towards the door and put the key in the lock and twisted it. The latch clicked open, the door swung back easily.

James stepped into the light.

x-x-x

When James opened his eyes, Q thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight. It was as if the pale, cold, corpselike body had suddenly filled with life again. He couldn’t help but smile as he rushed towards James’ bedside, grasping the other’s hand firmly within his own.

“Hey James,” he whispered, “welcome back.”


	25. Made of Marble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is fascinated by Q's neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted 'Bond is turned on by Q's slender neck and can't stop stroking and kissing it. Luckily, Q's neck is for him (Q) a zone of comfort and he finds Bond's touches warming his very soul?' Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“You have a lovely neck,”

“I thought you said you loved my arse last week,” Q remarked, as James continued to kiss his neck.

“Your neck is special,” James hummed against Q’s skin.

“Well it helps keep my head upright, yes,” Q remarked back dryly shutting his eyes and enjoying the feeling of James kissing his neck.

“Like a statute,” James whispered, brushing his fingers gently down the back of Q’s spine, “carved out of marble.”

“Says the man who has the body of a god,” Q replied.

“I’m trying to complement you,”

“As I am you, James,”

“You’re talking too much,” James said.

“I am?” Q asked, twisting onto his side so he could look James directly in the eyes, “as if you were complaining.”

“No,” James replied, snaking his hand around the back of Q’s neck and pulling the other man close, “I’ve got a few ideas of how to make you stop talking,”

“Yeh?” Q couldn’t help the playful smile appear across his face, “care to show me?”

“Your wish is my command,” James said, pulling Q close for a passionate kiss.


	26. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q takes James to meet his Mother for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted ' 00Q prompt: Q comes from an obscenely wealthy, very strictly Church of England family. His mother is more than a little miffed that Q is gay, but invites him and James around for afternoon tea anyway. At first she is rather cruel to him but Bond's education, wealth and title (LtCdr) impress her when the details eventually come out'. Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Q stabbed his tea forcefully, as if the delicate floral pattern on it offended him deeply. He hated being home, the sense of oppression and stress that came with it flooded over him as soon as he stepped through the doors.

At least James was with him, but then _Mother_ was doing her upmost best to be as offensive as possible in the fewest words.

“So where was it you said you went to school?” she asked.

Ah yes, her personal favourite. As if anyone’s character could be based upon how she rated their educational establishment. Q was sure that she just said it to be nosey as to his partner’s background, after all a ‘good’ school meant money in the family.

Q’s mother was impressed by money.

“Eton,” James replied. Q could tell that he was trying so very hard to be polite, but James’ tea was untouched in his lap. It was nerves, James had said on the drive up that meeting Q’s mother for the first time was far more terrifying that any mission he had been on.

Q would be inclined to agree.

“Ah,” Q’s mother took another sip of her tea, old fingers slipping carefully around the thin china handle as she placed it back on the saucer again.

Of course, neither of them could say about what James _really_ did. Q wanted to shout to the high heavens that James had saved the nation on more than one occasion, but sadly the Official Secrets Act prevented him from doing that.

Plus Eve had promised she would beat him into next week if he did so.

“So what is it you do?” Q’s mother asked, inquisitive frown appearing on her forehead.

James paused. Q couldn’t help but smile.

“Sales,” James replied, “my job takes me all over the globe.”

Q’s mother pursed her lips.

 _You like him,_ Q thought, _you know you like him._

Q wouldn’t say he got on well with his mother, and her view wouldn’t change his opinion of James at all. It was just a nagging thought in the back of his mind, a duty if you will, that his mother had to meet James.

Q’s mother put her teacup down on the glass table next to her high backed chair. She looked tiny, but there was a hidden power in her eyes that reminded them both of whose house they were in.

“You have done well,” Q’s mother said, turning towards her son with the barest hint of a smile on her lips, “he seems like a very lovely gentleman.”

James went red. Q couldn’t help the smile spread across his face.

“I think I was just very lucky,” he replied.


	27. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the home that was full of warmth and love, the home that made Jane smile whenever she was in a bad place, the home which anchored her to the planet.
> 
> All because of Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little New Years related ficlet for you all! Thank you to the entire 00Q fandom for an amazing year! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Jane Bond watched the sunrise of a new year on a hill overlooking a burning factory. It was odd how the colours of the fire matched those reds that spread across the horizon as the sun rose. It would be about half eleven back home, where Q would be sitting curled up in her favourite jumper and sipping on her hot chocolate, watching the TV.

Jane smiled. She missed Q, oh she did miss Q. It was an ache in her heart that would not go away however hard Jane tried to shove it to one side. It was the one part of her that did not change, that she _could not_ change whenever she slipped into a new guise for a mission. It was the ache that reminded her who she really was, and who she really loved.

Jane fiddled with the phone in her hand. She didn’t want to phone Q too early, she had to make sure that the task was done. If she was honest, sitting here not far away from the burning remains of the factory was not a smart idea. The authorities would be combing the land surrounding the factory looking for the red headed girl who had blown it up.

That red wig was now burning in the factory below. It felt nice to have the wind blowing through her real hair again, not constrained by the pins and wig.  It was as if she could be carefree again, if only for a little moment.

Jane tapped the screen on her phone twice, dialling the number with _‘home’_ scrawled next to it. It seemed so odd to Jane to have a home, a _proper_ home. Not the type of home she would stay in between missions, the home that was just the roof over her head and a place to sleep in the evening.

No this was the home that was full of warmth and love, the home that made Jane smile whenever she was in a bad place, the home which anchored her to the planet.

All because of Q.

The phone picked up immediately.

“Why haven’t you cleared the area?” Q asked. Jane grinned at Q’s abrupt and motherly tone. Even though the other woman was nowhere near as strong as Jane, she still insisted of making sure the agent was okay.

“Because I found a nice view,” Jane replied, rolling her eyes. Of course Q had hacked into MI6’s servers again and was checking up on Jane’s progress.

“The authorities are going to arrest you,” Q muttered, “and I’m going to have to break you out of jail _again-”_

“I won’t get arrested,” Jane interrupted, “I just wanted to wish you a happy new year.”

Jane could picture the smile which would crawl across Q’s face perfectly.

“Only you would call after a mission to wish me a happy new year,” Q chuckled down the phone, “its 12:05 here, so we’ve just entered 2014.”

“Sorry I can’t be there with you,” Jane said.

“Not your fault,” Q replied, “got to save your Queen and your Country and all that.”

“Well I should be home shortly,” Jane said.

“Provided you don’t get arrested,” Q remarked.

“I _won’t_ get arrested,” Jane said, just as the sirens began to wail down the road.

 _That took you long enough,_ Jane thought to herself.

“You go,” Q said, “please don’t get arrested and get back to me in one piece.”

Jane smirked.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“And, Jane?” Q said.

“Yeh?”

“You owe me a New Year’s kiss,” Q said.

Jane couldn’t help but smile.

“See you soon,” Jane replied, standing up as the first of the official police cars drove into the grounds of the burning factory. Figures swarmed out, guns raised. Their shouted orders echoed up towards Jane, bellowing at each other to try and work out what went wrong. From her vantage points, all of the people looked like nothing more than ants.

 “Love you,” Q said, “get home safely.”

“Love you too,” Jane replied. She ended the call and shoved the mobile into one of the pockets on the leg of her trousers. There was a small path that would lead her back to the main road, it was a bit of a hike, but it would lead her back to her motorcycle. She would have about half an hour to get clear, another two hours to get back to her room. She could be on a plane in a further hour.

It was time to go home.


	28. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What does it mean to be alive?” Q asks. The question is not to be answered, James knows this, but he still crosses his legs and looks up at his Starlighter, the one who raised him from a mere spark into mind he was today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a little thing to punctuate the writing hiatus I'm on. Special thanks to Rum for cheer leading me to post it.
> 
> This is in the same Starlighter universe as [Starlight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1777789), [Sunrise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1812595), [Eon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1832206), and [Lightstars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/2052775)

“What does it mean to be alive?” Q asks. The question is not to be answered, James knows this, but he still crosses his legs and looks up at his Starlighter, the one who raised him from a mere spark into mind he was today.

They float, existing between this universe and the next, spanning eons and spanning mere atoms simultaneously.

“Is it conscience?” Q continues, “But then you must remember that there are many organisms, many creatures, who had varying levels of conscience. There are plants on planets which can talk and communicate, and there are plants on other worlds which can only grow and change, but do not communicate.”

James frowns, his image flickering as he does so. Q smiles, placing his hand gently on the small star’s shoulder and pulling his image back into focus.

“Is it presence?” Q asks, “Can you say that a _thing_ which has no corporeal is not alive? But then, every thought ever considered is nothing more than electrical signals dashing from one side of an organ to another. There are ideas which spread, grow and develop just like plants, ideas which have no physical presence.”

“I don’t get it,” James asks with the bewilderment of a mind who has not experienced the universe. One day, Q knows that this Star will be able to guide and create galaxies of his own, caring for the live which was inside it with the same care that Q gave to him now.

“That is because the concept of being _alive_ spans far wider than any of these phrases,” Q replies, “it spans the stars, the galaxies and constellations which spin around in the universe. I like to think that one can quantify being _alive_ by looking at the universe, and being able to just widen your mind in wonder and question. Being alive is a development, it is a journey, a path which is unique to the mind which walks along it.”

“Am I alive then?” James pauses and looks down at his hands, letting them shift in and out of this plane of reality, “but how can I be real?”

“Do you think you are alive?” Q replies, “I remember raising you and your siblings from the smallest spark into the minds you are today.”

“I think I am,” James says, cocking his head to one side in question, “but then where did I come from?”

Q cannot help but feel a warmth blossom inside his chest. James will soon grow and change into the starlighter in his own right.

“You are a star,” Q says, bending down and pulling James into a hug, “you came from the universe itself. You are part of the workings, the mystery which pulls and pushes the worlds so they can hold life. But most important of all you are _alive.”_


	29. Too much Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q eats far too much sugar than advised, and begins to act a little erratically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from my hiatus! Been a little while!
> 
> This is for the anon who prompted 'could you do a fic of Q on a sugar high?'. Hope you like it! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Q you should really stop,” James said.

Q didn’t reply, his typing became even more frantic. Strewn cans of red bull and Lucozade covered the floor around him, as he furiously concentrated on the code fluttering before his eyes. It was just the code now, nothing else existed.

He was in _the zone._

“Q, can you even hear me?” James said, “it’s not healthy to eat that much sugar _and_ energy drink to keep going.”

“I’m wired,” Q replied, the words slipping out his mouth, his mind not concentrating on forming the words properly. James huffed, kicking a few of the cans out of the way to clear a spot to sit down next to Q.

Who would know that trying to hack the system to plant a fake video saying _happy birthday M_ on it would be so damn hard?

“M is not going to want you to hurt yourself doing this,”

“James, I am concentrating,” Q replied, “be quiet.”

“You type stupidly fast you know that,”

“Lalala I cannot hear you,”

“You’re replying,”

“Shut up,”

“I’ll listen to you when you’re not acting like a petulant child,” James replied.

Q made a face.

“Sugar makes you act immature you know,” James commented.

“Oh really?” Q said, “I thought it was you just being annoying?”

“I’m being less annoying than you,”

“Well I am now _finished,_ ” Q said, typing the final key with a flourish, “the video is implanted to play when M logs in tomorrow.”

“So _now_ can I get you to the medi bay because you have eaten _far_ too much sugar.”

“Nah,” Q paused, eyes lighting up, “we should host a party,”

“No we shouldn’t,” James said, “you don’t make rational decisions when you’ve had sugar.”

“Too late,” Q replied, grinning, “I’ve already sent out the invites.”

As if to make his point, the doorbell began to ring.


	30. Get Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get me out of here James,” Q said, sliding down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the very wonderful Cube who prompted me 'Would you write me some 00Q with reversed roles - Q as the agent and Bond as the handler/techie?'. Hope you like it dear!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Get me out of here James,” Q said, sliding down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he hit the floor. The pain in his leg was almost too much to compute, the other guy had been a good shot to get Q in the leg. Normally he was too fast for them to catch him.

This was not one of those times.

“You’re supposed to get yourself out of there,” James replied, his voice calm and collected as always. However, Q could notice the way James clipped his words, the other man was worried for him.

“Ha,” Q barked back down the comms, “how many baddies do I have left?”

“Five on the floor below,” James said, “you’ve got two lurking behind the door, two at the back with rifles, and one coming up the stairs towards you now.”

“Armed?”

“Pistol,” James replied, “nothing clever, you should be able to take him.”

“Should?”

“I’m giving you some leeway for the fact your leg is a bit messed up,” James remarked, “baddie closing in 5,4,3…”

Q stopped listening to James, instead shifting himself around and raising his Walter PPK up in a smooth movement, timing his breathing with the footfalls of the ‘baddie’ who was jogging along the corridor to find Q.

A gunshot rung out.

A body hit the ground.

“Nice shot,” James remarked down the earpiece.

“It’s what they pay me for,” Q said, leaning on the wall to try and push himself back to his feet. He needed to see a medic, it might just be a flesh wound on his leg but _goddamit_ it hurt. He was pretty sure there was something left in it from the pain which shot up his leg as he stumbled forward.

“They’re staying in the room,” James said, “clearly you freaked them out a little,”

“Couldn’t you distract them for a bit?” Q gasped as he tried to fight the pain in his leg, “I need some cover otherwise I’ll be a sitting duck.”

“I have got a sprinkler system and a fire alarm,” James said. Q could hear the other man’s fingers tapping across the keys back in MI6.

“Give them a fire alarm,” Q said, “make it loud.”

“Q I can’t increase the volume of these things from here,”

“Alright give them something else over the speaker system,” Q said, “doesn’t matter what but something that will confuse them.”

“I’m not a DJ, Q,” James remarked dryly.

“Your music collection at home would disagree,” Q replied, “I want them disorientated enough so I can take them out with ease.”

“Give me a moment,” James said, “get down the stairs okay.”

 _Ha,_ Q thought. Get down the stairs easily, it wasn’t as if James was a field agent, even if he had the body for one. Q’s expertise was in being quick, quiet, getting in without being noticed and then getting out again without a fuss.

Firefights with stupid odds against him were not his speciality. However, he had a mission to complete and he had never failed a mission.

Q bit at the collar of his shirt as he took the first step down the stairs, attempting to mask the scream of pain as he put his weight on his bad leg. He made good time, even for someone who was in pain. After all, he had been trained to cope with pain, but this wasn’t training. He had to keep his gun ready in his free hand, in case one of the baddies came searching for their friend.

“You down the stairs yet?” James asked.

 _I hate you,_ Q thought. James could see Q’s position from his tracker that had been placed into him before he had left England. He could see he was struggling.

“I’ll send them out in waves,” James said, “first two, then the second three. Get in position.”

“Right on it,” Q replied, stumbling down the final set of stairs. He could just see the doorway, it would be an easy shot if he wasn’t injured, but his body was weak and his hands were beginning to shake.

 _Just get out,_ he thought, _focus._

“First two coming now,” James said.

The lights went out in the entire complex, as the fire alarms began to blare out.

“Fucking hell that is loud,” Q swore down the mike. The lights came on again, showing the door beginning to open as the first two ‘baddies’ came out. Q raised his gun, firing two shots in quick succession.

The men collapsed in the doorway before they had even a chance to raise their weapon.

Q couldn’t hear James’ remarks over the noise of the fire alarm, holding his gun up and readying himself for the next two to come through. They would be prepared, having seen their comrades dying in the doorway.

“One hanging back,” James’ voice calmed Q, breaking through the pain of his leg and keeping him focussed, “gun is ready to be fired.”

“I’m faster,” Q said with confidence. He slowed his breathing, training his gun on the door and letting everything drop away and focusses solely on the doorway. The lights continued to flicker, James was trying to disorientate the ‘baddies’ enough to give Q a fighting chance.

“Approaching in 5,4,3,2…”

The man fell dead ontop of his comrades.

“I need the last one to come to me,” Q said, gritting his teeth, “and I will need evac.”

“They’re on their way,” James said, “but this guy has to be dealt with-”

“I know the brief,” Q replied sharply.

The line fell silent. It wasn’t that James was insulted, just worried about him, and Q knew that. He allowed himself to simply breathe, trying to drawn in the pain and stop it distracting his mind. If the final man didn’t come out soon, his arms were going to be too weak to shoot cleanly.

“He isn’t moving,” James said.

“HEY!” Q screamed, his voice betraying his pain, “I killed your friends. Come get me!”

“Q that isn’t going to-”

“You don’t like it!” Q continued, hoping that the final man would take the bait, “me storming in here and killing all of your friends, it’s wasn’t that hard if I admit.”

“He’s looking agitated,” James said.

“Not much to do,” Q shouted, “your shot is going to be better than mine anyway-”

“Moving fast,” James cut across Q’s thoughts, “Q, for fucks sake you’ve pissed him off.”

Q wasn’t listening. His hands were starting to shake with the pain now, he had to force himself to stay calm.

_I don’t want to die._

The thought trailed across his mind as the final man came into view, gun already raised to shoot Q dead.

“Q?” James asked.

“Get me out of here,” Q replied, lowering his gun as he allowed his hands to shake fully, “get me home.”

“On it,” James replied. That was all the words James had to say, but Q could hear the tone of his voice conveyed a deeper meaning, one which could not be broadcast over the comms channel.

_I’ll get you home to me._


	31. Worst Critic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q looked up from his laptop with the kind of disbelief in his face that he would have if he saw an advert which announced that the DFS sale was no longer running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For exploding-pens who gave me a list of prompts to choose from, and I chose ' AU where Bond is an acclaimed film director with a penchant for explosions (but he hates being compared to Michael Bay) and Q is a film buff programmer who thinks (with a passion) that Bond’s overrated. They met at a coffeeshop, like most people do :p And Q of course recognises Bond immediately when Bond tries to flirt with him?'. Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit

Q looked up from his laptop with the kind of disbelief in his face that he would have if he saw an advert which announced that the DFS sale was no longer running.

The man who had just sat down opposite him looked relatively normal. He was dressed in normal shoes, normal jeans, normal shirt, normal jacket. He had a normal cup of coffee in his hand, and a normal caramel slice next to it.

However, this man was not normal at all, and to be honest his attempts at trying to be inconspicuous were about as successful as the way he managed to shoehorn an explosion into every thirty seconds of any film he directed.

“Mind if I sit here?” the man said.

Q just stared in dull shock. Obviously, _James Bond,_ director of over 30 movies, 10 of which had been box office hits, took the ‘dull shock’ to be the type of shock a fan had when they met their idol.

“I know-” James begun, before Q cut him of.

“How exactly can you justify the use of _thirty tonnes_ of explosive in the film _Take Back Britain?”_ Q interrupted, grabbing his mug of tea and taking a sip. The sharp taste of Earl Gray steadied his racing thoughts, trying to concentrate on all the typical nerdy comments he could make about James’ films and not the fact that he looked rather good in his shirt.

Rather _too_ good.

“What?” James said, raising an eyebrow. The bastard almost looked amused.

“I mean,” Q continued, trying not to let his nerves show, “the explosion at the beginning was enough, but did we really have to sit through _thirty minutes_ of 3D shrapnel flying at our faces?”

“Our?” James replied, smirking, “there more than one of you?”

Q frowned irritably.

“I mean in the rhetorical sense,” he replied, “my views are not just in the minority.”

“The films sold,”

“Yes, and we’re talking about a society which watches the _X Factor_ in it’s free time, does that justify it’s quality?” Q retorted.

A smile spread across James’ face.

 _Bastard,_ Q thought. Here he was supposedly having a _serious_ conversation about the cinematic qualities of his film and he was _smirking._

“What’s so funny?” Q asked.

“You’re criticising,” James said.

“Yes,” Q replied slowly, “I’m QuaterMaster007, I criticise your work on a regular basis.”

“ _You’re_ the person who compared me to Michael Bay?!” James exclaimed.

“I admit I didn’t like the comparison,” Q pursed his lips, “Michael Bay takes explosions to a new level. Sadly, however, my readership is not all well versed in cinematic terminology so sadly I had to find another comparison to use.”

“At least you apologised for it,” James replied, taking a bite of his caramel slice.

“I critique your work, I’m not one of those internet trolls,”

“Certainly not,” James said, swallowing his piece of caramel slice, “you’re too good looking for that.”

Q almost spat his tea across the table. He could feel his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as his mind just _stopped._

“Say,” James asked, “you doing anything this evening?”

“Why do you ask?” Q croaked.

“I was thinking that you could critique my work some more over dinner,” James said, “it’s not every day you meet your worst critic and they turn out to be hot.”


	32. Consumed by Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When James saw Q’s crumpled from in the bottom of a terrorist cell, bloodied, beaten and bruised he didn’t even need to understand the anger that consumed him in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning - implied torture, angst**
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Anger is a strange emotion.

It is strange because of the number of different faces it has. Some faces are loud, passionate, growling like a lion before it leaps upon its prey. There is no thinking with this type of anger, it is snap judgements and harsh words that spill from the lips of mouths without care for their meaning. It is throwing things, attacking things, hurting things. It is pain and raw power, screaming until voices are hoarse and too many tears have been shed to cry any more.

Then there is the quiet anger, the simmering anger. This anger doesn’t get unleashed in a blind rage of fury, instead it slips into the bloodstream unseen, working its way along every vein and vessel until it traps its victim in a net of rage that they cannot shake. It is the anger which is given in snide glances, pointed silences. It is the closed fists, nails digging into skin until blood is drawn and silently drips onto the floor.

_Drip, drip, drip._

There is the anger which is confusing, that flares up for no reason or rhyme. There is no purpose to it, apart from the fact that you _feel it._ You can feel it take hold of your limbs and words like a puppet master, but you cannot understand why you are angry. It is like a part of your brain is hidden, cut off, stopping you from _understanding_ the emotion and just allowing it to occur, to consume and burn bright brilliantly in your eyes. This anger is the most dangerous, because the words can be filled with the most poison that afterwards seems too harsh for the situation, and the actions seem too vicious to be justified.  Yet you feel it is right, for whatever reason, your gut speaks louder than your logic and you have to _sing_ your rage to the world at that very instant in any form of expression you know how.

This anger is the most dangerous because the person is not in control anymore. They react, they are instinct, they are a combination of the burning passion of the loud anger and the simmering of the quiet anger.

When James saw Q’s crumpled from in the bottom of a terrorist cell, bloodied, beaten and bruised he didn’t even _need_ to understand the anger that consumed him in that moment. He was action, he was rage, he was fury.

He was death.

Even as he carried Q out towards freedom, he made sure every man had been turned into a body of meat before he left. He could feel Q croaking for him to stop, but there was no control.

He was a puppet to his rage, this one time he allowed it to consume him totally. And he burned brilliantly, like the fierce light of the sun breaking through the shadows of the night at the first light of dawn.

But like any star, he burned too bright. When he got Q out, when he called in for support he made sure was not present when the evac team came to pick the bloodied Quatermaster up. His place had to be in the shadows now, disgraced, dishonoured, and expelled from the service of the Queen.

But it was worth it, James figured, to save Q.


	33. Only a name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q didn’t want to respond, he didn’t even think he could respond. After all, Alec was old news, a fling from a bygone life which Q had attempted to force into dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted: 'not actually being explicit but having it somewhat said that they are in fact doing "it" and Q accidentally say Alec's name instead of James'. and there be angst but fluff in the end.' Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Who was he?”

Q didn’t want to respond, he didn’t even think he _could_ respond. After all, Alec was old news, a fling from a bygone life which Q had attempted to force into dust.

“He,” Q begun, his voice catching in his throat. He couldn’t think, didn’t want to think about that life, not now, not with James. The years he had spent destroying the very civilizations he now wanted to uphold were _not_ a part of his life. Like dust, those memories had been blow away long ago.

“Q,” James said, voice low. Q could tell he was tense. Not angry, no James Bond had no _right_ to be angry at Q for calling out _that man’s_ name that evening when in the heat of the moment.

But James, the James he trusted and knew and _loved,_ that James deserved to know. Q could feel it in the agent’s posture behind him, weight spread across the bed and hovering just out of Q’s sight.

“I thought,” Q started, curling his hands into fists, “he was someone who I thought I could trust. He was an inside man, from another group, he gave information to us, gave it to _me_ so I could get out.”

“He’s the one who let you leave all that behind?” James wrapped his arms around Q, but Q refused to lean into James. James knew about his past life, but he didn’t know the details.

Not because he didn’t trust James, but because the past was too painful to recognise as his own.

“Yes,” Q said, “and even after all that, he’s the one who almost killed you. And yet his name still haunts me now.”

“It’s just a name,” James growled into Q’s neck, “names have no power over you, and they have no power over me.”

“You don’t care?” Q twisted around to directly at James.

“I love you too much too care,” James replied, kissing Q, “and I know you love me too. That is enough for me.”


	34. Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were very few things in the world that would have made Q snap back into the life he had before MI6. Death of a loved one by the hands of a criminal organisation, his brother’s body flayed and hung out on a rooftop to be found by the police a few days later when it had already started to rot was one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For dear-daddy-stars who prompted 'Well for a prompt, can you write a thing inspired from the new game Watchdog on ps4 : Bond think Q is dead during a mission or whatever and fall in Alcoholism but MI6 call him back for a job : find a mysterious hacker (it's Q) which terrorize all London City to get revenge on his little sister/nièce (whatever) death and Bond try to stop Q before he committed an irrevocable act which could sent him into prison for the rest of his life. 8D'. I've never played Watchdog, so I kind of watched the trailer and took inspiration from it! Hope you enjoy it anyway! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.
> 
> Warnings: Discussion of murder, death, corpses

The rain hammered against the window pane, a dull backing rhythm to Q’s fingers flying across the keyboard. Code spun from his fingertips, this particular piece of code was designed to change the sequence of lights in the advertising boards in Piccadilly Circus to be a few seconds off. Nothing too serious this time, more to just show the world that Q was still there, lurking in the shadows.

And he was still pissed off.

There were very few things in the world that would have made Q snap back into the life he had before MI6. Death of a loved one by the hands of a criminal organisation, his brother’s body flayed and hung out on a rooftop to be found by the police a few days later  when it had already started to rot was one of them.

 _Fear is my weapon,_ Q thought, hitting enter, _I am hunting for you, Michael. You are my prey, I am the predator._

A door slammed downstairs, making Q jump. His current hideout was in the backend of nowhere, a shabby, rundown flat of blocks that had been forgotten by councils and the police. It was the hideout of drug users, of criminal gangs, of the low-life scum that the rest of the population of London wanted to forget about.

_Is that what I am now? Low-life scum?_

Q got up from his seat, a merge jacket folded into a precise square that took away the cold of the concrete floor, setting up the locking sequence for his laptop with a swift key combination. If Michael had found him now, he would want the information on Q’s laptop.

Q wasn’t stupid enough to hand that level of code into the hands of a person like Michael. At least Q had some level of morality left, he ensured that the public were never harmed, just targeting his attacks at a specific few individuals, and covering up those attacks with generic random hacks to keep the police guessing.

Q tensed, freezing in the middle of the room. That was the squeaky floorboard, fourth from the end of the stairs which Q had loosened as a primitive warning device of someone approaching his temporary home. As much as he had wanted to use tech to monitor his surroundings, some comforts had to be forgotten if he wanted to stay truly hidden.

Q calmly reached for the penknife in his backpocket, quickly crossing the final step to the far wall so he could hide behind the door if it was opened. He wasn’t stupid enough to attempt to fire a gun, guns were only dangerous in the hands of people who knew how to actually use them.

Q was more likely to shoot himself in the foot, literally, before dropping someone with a gun.

 _Like James could,_ Q thought. His hand reflexively tightened around the handle of his knife at the thought of James. That was his one regret, leaving James a small note on the kitchen counter before disappearing completely. It hurt, but it had to be done. James wouldn’t want to know about this side of Q, not the reality that lay behind the stories he had told him.

The door handle turned.

Q tensed up, sliding the knife around –

In a flash, Q felt his feet taken from under him, as a very pissed off looking James Bond pinned him to the floor.

And held a gun to his head.

“What the fuck are you doing?” James growled.

Q’s voice seized up in his throat. Here was James, pressing his weight down ontop of him and the bastard _expected_ him to reply?

“You know I’m supposed to kill you,” James said, “you disappear off the map, you leave a fucking _post-it note_ to say where you’ve been, and the suddenly a new hacker appears on 6’s radar terrorising London?”

“Not the whole of London,” Q croaked, “just-”

“Michael Veate,” James finished, blue eyes boaring into Q, “M might not know why you upped camp and left, but you told me.”

James bared his teeth in anger. Q could understand, the one part of his brain that wasn’t ringing from being laid out by James knew that the agent would be pissed with him.

“So you going to do it then?” Q asked.

James paused, the question catching him off guard.

“What?”

“Kill me?”

Thoughts flickered across James’ eyes, he was clearly having the same inner turmoil that Q had experienced when he had scribbled that fateful post-it note.

“No,” James said.

The gun left Q’s temple.

“Agents sometimes need help,” James said.

“So we’re partners then?” Q joked.

James’ face stayed stony cold.

“Partners trust each other,” James replied, “I want to know why you left me with nothing more than a post it note.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“Try me,” James said, standing up and casually kicking the door closed with his heel, “and I’ll guarantee Michael Veate dead.”

Q scrambled backwards, thoughts spiralling. He had told James the watered down story of his past, not the full story. The full story was not something that he wanted to delve into, with _anyone._

But as James’ cold blue eyes continued to stare at him, Q realised he had no other option. He wanted Michael dead, and James was giving him that opportunity.

And maybe he could win back James in the meanwhile.

“Take a seat, this is a long story,” Q said, his voice sounding calmer than he expected as he gestured to a piece of bare concrete.

James continued to stand.

“Suit yourself,” Q remarked, sitting back down on his coat, grateful for the bit of warmth, “my first meeting with Michael was when I was 15 and hacked into the Government files for a bit of fun. He decided to employ me, I thought nothing more of it because it was bloody good money. I just didn’t realise that Michael had a reputation for never letting you leave.”

Q looked at James, wanting some sort of response from the agent. The blue eyes flickered, anger and confusion crossing their surface. Of course they would, Q had originally told James Michael had been a simple hack n’ run job.

“I’ve been running from Michael ever since I broke free at 20. That’s seven years, and Michael has been chasing down me ever since.”

“Your brother wasn’t involved?”

“Just bait to make me pissed off,” Q replied, “that’s why I disappeared.”

James paused.

“He will die,” the agent replied simply, “you have my word.”

“Thank you,” Q smiled, just a little at James.

James smiled back.

 _Maybe there is hope for us after all,_ Q thought.


	35. Impromptu Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q goes on holiday without filling in the right form. James and Alec are sent to bring him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted 'Could you do a JAQ fic where Q decides to leave the country for whatever reason and James and Alec hunt him down and bring him back?'. Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“I don’t want to come back!” Q said, sipping on his margarita.

James and Alec stared at the Quatermaster with raised eyebrows. The Quatermaster, esteemed hacker of MI6, was lounging on a poolside recliner with a cocktail in his hand and wearing some ridiculous aviators that, in James’ opinion, hid Q’s rather beautiful bone structure.

“You can’t take a holiday without any notice.” Alec said, “otherwise _none_ of the 00s would return from missions.”

“I did give notice, M allowed me,” Q replied.

“M told us to get you,” James remarked, “which wasn’t that hard.”

“Even _James_ noticed the trail,” Alec drawled sarcastically.

James glared at the other agent.

“Like I couldn’t anyway,” James remarked, “who was it who locked themselves out of their blackberry?”

Alec glared.

“It’s not like it was _supposed_ to blow up,” Alec replied.

“Smoke doesn’t count,” Q remarked, “and the key sequence was very easy to remember.”

“Not the problem,” Alec said, “the fact that you just disappeared off the face of the earth-”

“You still found me,” Q interrupted.

“Is the problem,” James finished, “you do realise that MI6 has a holiday form you have to fill in?”

“Like you’ve filled one of those in,” Q shrugged, “Anyway it’s not like you have to take me home _now._ Maybe in a week or so.”

“That would be inefficient,” Alec said.”

“Like you care,” Q replied, sipping on his drink, “pull up a chair boys, and try and wipe those scowls of your faces _please.”_

“I’m going to throw him in the sea,” Alec growled.

“Right with you there,” James sighed as he signalled to the waiter. Q did have a point, it had taken them two days to find him, now they might as well enjoy the sunshine whilst they were here.


	36. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet on a chatshow, one of the more unexpected turns in James' life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For factoryworker8 who prompted 'Prompt. Both Bond and Q are big public figures from different areas (maybe actor and singer) and they work together on a film or something and are on a chat show doing promo. They start off professionally but end up cuddling and being super cute because they just love each other so much'. Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

If James were to look back at his life, he would find many turn it in that he would call ‘unexpected’.

Take his job. His father had wanted him to join the Navy, a good and proper career path for any son. Instead, he wanted to become an actor, to work on the stage with some of the industry’s best writers and artists, to _create_ with his body what he envisioned in his mind.

Then there was his second job, the one that landed him on a stage opposite a little known actor named Berry Takers. He had been Bond’s first taste of what the acting community were _really_ like, the weezy little man had made Bond’s life utter _hell_ for the whole run.

But it had made money. Good money.

Then there was Verity. Verity had been a major turning point in James’ life, personally and professionally. Through her he had managed to break into the media business, and then onto the films.

Then he had been part of a blockbuster. Then he had gone on _that_ chatshow, the one where he had first met Quentin Masters, sitting on the opposite end of the chatshow sofa. James could still picture the scene, the bright studio lights had reflected brilliantly off Q’s cheekbones. He had been sitting back into the sofa, leg flung across the other casually and sharp eyes that studied each of the other guests with an intelligent gaze from behind thick, designer glasses. Every answer to the host’s questions had been crisp and clean, with an accent that could only originate from the very best education. It was similar to James’ accent, but he had gradually developed a way of making his words less crisp, wanting to count on his muscular frame and strong looks to win him parts. However, with Q his voice was like the sharp lemon in a martini, crisp and clear and washing over James like he had downed his drink in one.

It hadn’t taken long for the two of them to find each other, outside the bright studio lights. Stealing kisses inside shadows, behind curtains, where the media didn’t dare enter and they could have some privacy.

The thing James loved about being with Q was the fact he could sing. Of course, Q could sing, he wouldn’t be a frontman of a damn band without the ability to sing, but it was the way Q changed his voice from the crisp vowels to make it rustier, like a dirty cocktail. It drew James in, made him stop whatever he was doing and just shut his eyes to allow himself to sink into the sound.

If there was one thing James was grateful for, in his whole life of unexpected events, it would be Q. It was Q who would wrap his arms around James at night, Q who would proudly hold James’ hand whenever they went to red carpet premiers. It was Q who would talk about James on chatshows, and whose eyes would light up as he talked more about James than his latest album.

“James,” a voice said from the covers next to him. James smiled, clearly his sleeping beauty had awoken.

“Yes,” James whispered.

“What you doing up?” Q asked, “it’s a weekend.”

“Thinking,” James replied.

“About what?”

“You.”


	37. To be a God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In some worlds, the Starlighters were heralded as the creatures who had created the very universe itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who I promised a Starlighter!AU fic aaages ago and have FINALLY got around to writing! Hope you like it! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

What does it mean to be a god?

Someone powerful? Someone benevolent? Someone who knows more than you and your race, someone who created you and cared for you.

Someone who you don’t understand?

There were many being in the universe, scattered across the infinite numbers of stars and galaxies. In some edges of the universe, gods were merely beings who were spoken of, preached to, but never seen. It was a force created by the race themselves, developed by word of mouth and developing upon fables and stories of those who came before.

But in other worlds, gods were real. They were the beings who came down from the heavens and spoke to the people, alien bodies and minds passing on wisdom and protection to their creations. People would flock to them, preach to them, sing songs in their honour and wait for the barest glimpse of their deity coming amongst them.

The Starlighters were one of the oldest races in the universe, being the ones who lived _in between_ the places where space or time could not exist. They created, moulded, changed the universe like a painter would sketch out a drawing on a canvas. In some worlds, they were heralded as the creatures who had created the very universe itself.

Q, however, always shied away from the titles that some races wanted to place upon his shoulders. He was called the ‘Creator’ in some, others gave him sacrifices and temples to worship him. Sometimes he would visit those worlds, he kind of felt a _duty_ to visit those worlds which had hauled hundreds of stone blocks up a mountain to build a temple at its highest point.

But his favourite world was Earth, tucked away in the corner of the milky way. James cared for Earth now, Q had far too many galaxies and worlds to care for to look after every single one personally.

But even now, he still had reason to visit that planet, slipping quietly into a busy city in a human form and watch the world fly by from the safety of a coffee shop.

Humans on the planet earth knew how to make a cracking cup of tea. He had tried to convince Eve, a Starlighter of the 456-Qe quadrant to try some, but she had merely laughed away Q’s silly fancies for mortal drinks, enjoying the nectar of Geli, one of the planets under her domain.

Q sipped his tea quietly, as the busy commuters rushed to their place of work, faces down as they peered at their phones in deep concentration. Q found it amazing how _so many people_ could simply ignore one another, walking past and brushing shoulders without even acknowledging the other’s existence.

“Enjoying my planet again?” a voice said behind Q.

Q couldn’t help but smile. After all, it was James.

“I gifted it to you,” Q reminded James.

“Ah yes,” James replied, sliding into the seat opposite Q with a steaming cup of tea in his hand, “a gift out of love if I remember?”

“You look after it well,” Q replied, “it’s a well deserved present.”

“Because you love me or because I look after it well?”

“Both,” Q replied, “you care for your worlds, you never let any problem go unturned. That’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

“One of them?” James laughed, the sound making Q smile, “what are the others?”

“The list is too long,” Q replied.

“We’re immortal,” James’ smile lit up his face, blue eyes sparkling, “we’ve got as long as you want to spend with me.”

“That’s forever,” Q said, looking down at his cup of tea, “I might have to get another cup of tea then.”


	38. Dinner with a director

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q goes to dinner with James Bond, the infamous movie director, and teaches him a thing or two about physics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of [Worst Critic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/3704249)
> 
> I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

When Q had first decided to go on a full on internet based crusade to lambast James Bond’s filming techniques, he never really considered the actual _man_ behind the name.

Dinner had finished, the plates had been cleared, and James and Q were still sitting in a restaurant which Q could never have _dreamed_ to have paid for on his tiny critic salary. It had got to the time when the waiting staff were beginning to give Q and James side-line looks as if to say _‘so how long do you guys expect to hog the table for?’._

“It’s all about supply and demand,” James said, taking another sip of his wine, “some movies are technically brilliant but they will not actually _sell._ No-one will want to see them.”

“I would.”

James raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a critic,” James said, “you’re supposed to understand lighting angles, how to cut scenes, the difference between different shots. The general public just want something they can disappear into for two hours and forget the world they live in.”

“I thought that was just the superhero genre.”

James shook his head.

“People have different tastes,” James said, “I just cater to the widest taste. Yes, there are a lot of explosions and physics defying stunts-”

“Like the one in _Revenge II,”_ Q interrupted, “no way that jump was physically possible.”

“And how do you know that?” James asked.

“I worked it out,” Q shrugged. James seemed rather astonished, which made Q smile internally.

 _I’m more than just a critic,_ Q thought.

“Really?” James asked.

“Well otherwise it would be pointless to suggest otherwise,” Q replied, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for using the cinematic genre to suspend the audience’s belief in the world, but you have to set some basic in-world rules for the characters to follow.”

“So how would you have done the jump then?” James asked, “if the motorbike wouldn’t cross the ravine.”

“Make her fail,” Q said, “make Jennifer miss the jump and have to deal with it. Maybe she carried a parachute, maybe she could fly, whatever it was it has to be consistent with the rules of the world.”

“She couldn’t fly,” James replied, “the film was as cop drama.”

“She couldn’t jump a ravine with only a short run-up and no ramp,” Q replied, “would have been easy to make a convenient ramp.”

“Not that would have looked inconspicuous on the side of a _cliff in a desert.”_ James replied.

“She could have pulled out a gun and shot down the helicopter,” Q replied.

“Where on _earth_ would she get a land-to-air missile?” James said.

Q shrugged.

“No idea,” he replied, “but they’re _far_ more interesting options than a mere jump.”

James paused, nodding at Q’s comments.

“You seem to have thought about this a lot for a critic,” James said.

“I don’t just criticise,” Q replied, “I make comments based on how it could be made better. Your movies make millions for a reason, I just ask why the audience wouldn’t want something that isn’t necessarily _all_ about explosions and car chases? Maybe they want something that challenges _them_ to think?”

“You’re certainly challenging me to think,” James said, finishing his glass of wine, “more than anyone else I’ve met really.”

Q blushed at the compliment.

“I do try,” he replied, nodding to James’ empty wine glass, “so what do you want to do now?”

James smiled.

“I think the general idea is to invite me back for coffee,” James replied.

“To my shitty flat?”

James shrugged.

“I was a struggling director once, I know what shitty flats look like,” he replied.

Q smiled. Yes, maybe there was a hint of humanity underneath the famous façade of James Bond.

“Would you like to come for coffee?” Q asked, “although the earl grey is far better.”

“Earl grey?” James asked, “is that a codename for sex?”

“No,” Q replied seriously, “it’s just I have really shit coffee.”

James simply smiled.


	39. Firesprite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James found that being trapped in underground caverns did have a distinct advantage when his rescuer had nice cheekbones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who drew [this picture](http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/post/92151598177/and-this-was-some-random-au-i-thought-about-while), and I asked if I could write something for it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

James hated the chains most of all.

They constrained him to a human form, pushing and squeezing his natural fluid form into something that humans could understand. They didn’t like the fact that James was a pure force of nature itself, a conscience that could drive flame and fire across the world to help create new life by destroying the old.

True, he hated being underground. Not that he needed to be on the surface, like some of the Sunsprites he knew of, but he just _liked_ being able to see the sun. It was the raw power of the heat, the form that James enjoyed so much, which gave him something to aspire towards.

If Firesprites could have a God, James figured the Sun would fit very nicely. However, he was far above humanity’s petty quarrels and religions, he was a force of nature itself.

And he was really, _really,_ fucking bored.

The sounds of a commotion echoed down the hallway which led to James’ prison, an underground cavern carved out by humanity to capture spirts such as him. Screams filled the room, as well as the sounds of swords crashing against one another.

 _Huh,_ James shifted his weight a little to make himself comfortable. Something was happening, that would help pass the day a little faster.

The noise of fighting continued to grow louder, the noise music to James’ ears. He was a more tempestuous sprite, one who preferred _destruction_ of his abilities as opposed to the growth it would bring in its wake. Violence, anger, and rage were all tools at his disposal.

James tapped his fingers impatiently, wanting to see who would emerge from the tunnel victorious. If it were his current captors, then they would quiz James on the future. They were fools, thinking that James had the powers of prophecy just because he was not humans.

 _Idiots,_ James thought, picking at his trousers idly, _the lot of them._ The material was sheen, almost see-through, made out of a new material that could withstand the heat of his powers. Apparently, his captors had also blessed it with holy water in an attempt to let their God stop him from wrecking havoc.

James had laughed when they had told him that.

A man came flying out of the cavern entrance, clearly kicked out of the way by the aggressor they had been fighting. The body hit the ground hard, too hard for the man to get back up again.

Another man stepped into the cavern, armour splattered with blood drops and his sword glistening red. The helmet turned towards where James was sitting, and James shot the knight a wide smile, the kind of smile that had sent his previous captors running.

The knight didn’t respond. Instead, much to James’ surprise, he began to walk towards him.

James could feel the magic humming inside him, trapped by his chains. It was a subconscious defence, one which had been necessary with his previous captors. They had never been too kind when James had made snarky remarks about their measly existence and constant verbal battles about the logistics of Jesus.

“You here to rescue me?” James asked. His voice echoed about the cavern, amplifying it. The knight, however, didn’t stop in his tracks as James expected. He continued to walk towards James with a purposeful gait, sword dripping blood across the stone floor. James didn’t take his eyes of the weapon, in this form one swing of a sword could kill him.

He hated being so fucking venerable sometimes.

The knight paused a swords swing from James, before lifting his helm in one swift movement. James raised his eyebrows at the youthful face which stared out underneath the helmet, but then he noticed the age behind the knight’s eyes.

Old eyes. Experienced eyes.

“Do you wish to be free, sprite?” the knight asked. He had a sternness to his voice that was surprising in one who looked so young, as if he had always expected to be obeyed.

“Name’s James,” James replied. He always hated following orders.

“That wasn’t my question,” the knight said, his voice not showing a hint of humour.

“Obviously,” James said, “can you sort that for me?”

The knight smiled, just slightly.

 _Oh so we are human after all,_ James thought, _I thought you were all just bloodthirsty bastards._

The knight lifted his sword, making James flinch with the ease the smaller man could move the weapon. That metal could easily take his head off.

He happened to be quite attached to having his head still attached to his shoulders.

With one swift movement, the knight broke James’ chains. The magic in them crackled with energy, sparking with bright green light, before disintegrating into dust.

 _Freedom!_ James thought, breathing out heavily. However, just before he shifted his form into something ethereal and fled the cavern, James turned towards the knight.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

“Your help,” The knight replied, “if you wish to give it.”

“I could kill you, now, if I wished,” James said.

“I could have killed you just now,” the knight said, “but I did not. That makes us even.”

James shrugged. The kid did have a point.

“What kind of help?” he asked.

“Taking over the kingdom,” the knight replied. James frowned, why on earth would someone that young want to take over an entire _kingdom?_

Then it came to him. The lost prince, whose family had been kicked off a generation past. James’ previous captors had fed him enough snippets of information to work out that the world above was in civil war, with rumours that the lost prince had returned to claim his kingdom.

“What’s your name?” James asked.

“You may call me Q,” the knight replied.

 _Air of mystery,_ James thought, _as well as having nice cheekbones. It’s almost an offer I can’t refuse._

“Can you guarantee destruction for them?” James asked, nodding towards the body of his captor that Q had slain mere moments before.

“If you wish it,” Q asked, “in return for your assistance to get to the throne.”

James smiled.

“When do we start?” he asked.


	40. I am James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q created a Creature from flesh and machine, but he didn't realise what it meant to give something _intelligence_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Rum's [picture](http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/post/94071655193/frankensten-00q-au-for-prez-doe-3-3-i-was) of a Frankenstein!Q. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Can you hear me, Creature?” Q asked, peering into his creation’s dead eyes. The skin looked almost realistic, taught over the fabricated muscles and metal which lay underneath. It was a labour of love, for year he had designed and tested the relevant parts to create this creature.

An AI. A Creature of his own.

“Hello?” Q asked, staring right into the Creature’s eyes.

It blinked.

Q let out a yelp of surprise, stumbling backwards into his workbench, sending his papers flying across the floor. The Creature blinked again, this time cocking its head very slowly to the left. The cogs and gears turned inside, Q could hear the metal grinding against itself as the creature begun to frown.

“Hello,” the Creature said, voice flat. The voicebox was Q’s proudest creation, a combination of robotics and organic matter. The creature’s voice was a low tenor, deep and resonating just as Q had envisioned.

“You can talk?” Q asked.

The Creature stared back.

“Yes,” It replied, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world.

“You work!” Q smiled, the relief and excitement flooding through his body. It had actually worked! All the plans, the calculations had told Q that it _should_ work, but to have his Creature actually communicating with him was a totally different matter.

A small part of him was scared. This was new ground, unknown to humanity.

 _What happens if it goes wrong?_ Q thought.

“You,” the Creature asked, raising a hand slowly and stabbing a figure towards Q, “who?”

“Who are you?” Q couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. The Creature was reasoning, thinking for itself. All those nights that Q had spent programming the mind chips had paid off.

It could _think._

“Who am you?” the Creature pointed at Q again, arm shaking as it tried to work out how its limbs worked.

“I am you creator,” Q replied, pointing to himself, “I am Q.”

“Q,” the Creature replied. Q couldn’t help smile as the Creature said his name.

 _It recognises me,_ Q thought, delighted.

“You are my creation,” he said, pointing to the Creature, “I made you.”

“Me?” the Creature said, turning its hand slowly and pointing to itself. Q noticed the Creature’s lungs heaving heavily underneath it’s torso, built to recreate a man in his prime of fitness.

“You are my creation,” Q repeated, slower to ensure the Creature understood.

The Creature shook it’s head.

“Me,” the Creature said, “Me is James.”

Q felt the blood drain from his face. He had named the computer program James, as a joke.

In honour of his older brother, the one who had died before Q had been born.

“I am James,” the Creature declared, satisfied with its logic.

“You are James,” Q fumbled behind him, wanting the support of his desk.

 _What have I created?_ he thought, as the Creature looked at him with its cold blue eyes.

“I am James,” It replied.


	41. Behind me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q hated the creature that hid in the corner of his sight. Stalking, watching, waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For exploding-pens who prompted:Can I request for Q being stalked by Slenderman? It gets so bad that Q refuses to stay at work alone, and insists that Bond is with him all the time? But of course Bond can't be with Q all the time. But how does one destroy or at least drive away something so unknown? Bond helps Q? Happy ending? Thank you in advance! Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Q hated looking out of the corner of his eye.

It was in that space between _knowing_ and not knowing. That space where you had to look at little _harder_ to see what was really there.

Q could feel the thing’s eyes on the back of his head, boring inside his very mind.

“Q?” James Bond asked.

Q’s eyes snapped back to the 00 standing in front of him. The agent looked at him with a quizzical expression, gaze flicking towards the corner that Q didn’t dare look at.

“Sorry,” Q apologised, “not been sleeping well recently.”

x-x-x

 _Slenderman_ was the name the creature had been given by the internet.

Every encounter had the same conclusion.

Death.

x-x-x

Q always slept with the lights on.

There were the normal lights that had been in the flat when he had moved in. Those were the ones which could be turned off manually at the wall.

Then there were the lights that Q had installed when he had first moved in. The LED lights on the front of his computer monitors that offered a comforting glow in the darkness. The outside lights which would come on with any hint of movement.

Then there were the lights that Q had installed after _it_ had first appeared. The bright floodlights, so bright they blocked out all darkness. They gave nowhere for _it_ to hide.

Q could sleep in the bright light. _It_ didn’t like bright light.

Or so he hoped. For good measure, he put a video camera on as well.

x-x-x

“Q, tell me what is going on,” James asked.

It was _James_ now, not 007 or _Bond._ It had started off as a fling, Q had been desperate for _some_ human contact. Especially with that thing which was watching him all the time.

Now it was something more. Now he could feel the tug on his heartstrings and the inevitable _pull_ of attraction and desire that run through his veins became something deeper. It was a richer pull, a desire that Q had never known before.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Q whispered. Even with James, dear, wonderful James, Q couldn’t say.

No one would believe him. Even he didn’t want to believe what he saw in the corner of his eye.

The tall figure stood against the bookcase behind James, sitting in the shadow that was just behind the tall lamp that shone out in the corner of the room. It wore a suit, much like James’ one which was currently in varying stages of undress across Q’s living room floor. Q didn’t know what it’s face looked like, the internet had varying descriptions but Q had never read them in depth.

“Q,” James said, snapping Q out of his thoughts. James reached up and pulled Q into an embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around Q. Q buried his head into the other man’s shoulder, not wanting to look up and see the _creature_ that was sitting behind James.

“I will keep you safe,” James said, like a vow.

“You don’t know you can,” Q whispered into James’ shoulder.

“I will try,” James pulled back, looking directly into Q’s eyes.

“What happens if you can’t?” Q’s words barely escaped from his lips, “what happens if it’s something that isn’t of this world.”

James blinked, confused.

“You can’t help me,” Q said. A tear trickled down his cheek, which James wiped away gently with his thumb.

“Yes I can,” James said, “and I always will.”

x-x-x

How could you kill something that you couldn’t understand?

Q looked at it as a death sentence. James saw it as a challenge.

Q had never seen James so determined before, as he poured over the notes that Q had collected over the year of being stalked by the creature. He had a highlighter in one hand and a pen in the other, noting down anything that he thought was relevant with his right hand.

Most people considered the 00 section to be a ‘blunt instrument, used only when MI6 needed a weapon that caused damage silently. What people _failed_ to realise was how intelligent someone had to be to make the 00 section, every member of the division was smart enough to know _how_ to use their skills to ensure the result that MI6 wanted.

Watching James study the information on the _creature_ that haunted Q’s shadow made him feel a little bit more confident. Here was a man who knew numerous ways of killing a living person, armed with this new knowledge he would be able to easily kill anything supernatural.

“James?” Q asked. Recently he didn’t dare speak above a whisper in a desperate attempt to regain some of his privacy from the _thing_ that stood in the corner of the room behind him.

“I know,” James replied, gesturing for Q to sit next to him. He didn’t need to say any more, not wanting to give away the plan he was forming. Q had insisted that James didn’t tell him either, in order to ensure they could catch the creature off guard.

“How long?” Q asked, as he slid next to James and wrapped his arms around the agent. He needed comfort, and he needed something positive.

He wanted his life back.

x-x-x

“You sure this is going to work?” Q asked, tentatively.

He stood in the middle of his bedroom, which currently had every single light on. It was so bright, Q had been forced to wear sunglasses. James, however, had a scarf tied around his eyes, which allowed some of the light though but not all of it.

“Nope,” James replied, placing a reassuring hand on Q’s shoulder, “But there is always a first time for something to work.”

“Reassuring,” Q muttered dryly.

Q had no idea exactly _what_ James had planned, but it had involved the acquisition of a few specialised bullets that contained _garlic_ of all things. Q still had no idea why James had insisted on the garlic, but apparently it was relevant for killing the _thing_ that stood just to the left of Q.

“Stay still,” James said, “whatever happens, do _not_ move.”

“Okay,” Q replied.

James stepped back towards the light switch, gun resting easily in his palm.

“Don’t move,” James repeated, as his hand went towards the light switch.

Q swallowed, trying to keep his nerves under wraps.

James turned the lights off.

Suddenly, Q felt a coldness down his left side. It was as if someone had opened a fridge door right next to him.

“ _Kill,”_ a high pitched voiced whispered in Q’s ear. He whimpered, terrified of the _thing_ that was standing right next to him.

“Stay still,” James’ voice said, calm and reassuring.

“ _He will not save you,”_ the voice continued, _“nothing can save you from me. You are my slave now.”_

Q felt skeletal hands close around his throat. He screamed as pain shot through his entire body, the coldness burning his skin worse than any heat could.

The lights came on.

Q was blinded but the sudden light. The _thing_ hissed loudly in Q’s ear, as if in challenge.

The sound of the gunshot was almost deafening, overwhelming Q’s already terrified brain. The cold hands disappeared from his neck in an instant.

“Q?” James said. Q’s eyes slowly begun to adjust to the bright light of the room, as he felt James’ arms circle around him and pull Q into a warm embrace.

“Is it gone?” Q asked, pushing his face into James’ shoulder. He shook violently, the fear and adrenaline taking over his body.

“Yes,” James said, with a definite certainty in his voice.

“I’m safe?” Q said.

“You’re always safe with me,” James replied.


	42. The Science of Bright Red Foam Assault Courses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is quite frankly ridiculous,” James remarked, waving his empty glass towards the screen. On it, contestants were running across a complex range of padded contraptions, some of which looked quite frankly deathly even if they were covered in bright red foam.
> 
> “Nah, Q slurred, drinking the wine straight from the bottle, “it’s fucking science.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the brilliant Rum, who prompted 'Q and Bond watch Takeshi’s Castle', which I adapted a little to mention Total Wipeout (which is kind of the UK version of the concept).
> 
> A/N: Yes, the title contains as much crack as the actual fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“This is quite frankly ridiculous,” James remarked, waving his empty glass towards the screen. On it, contestants were running across a complex range of padded contraptions, some of which looked quite frankly _deathly_ even if they were covered in bright red foam.

“Nah, Q slurred, drinking the wine straight from the bottle, “it’s fucking _science.”_

James raised his eyebrow at Q. It amused him no end that the infamous Quartermaster of MI6 could not hold his alcohol for damn.

Well, most people wouldn’t consider Q a ‘lightweight’, but for James getting pissed after one bottle of wine qualified a person in the ‘lightweight category’.

“You see,” Q continued, his words sliding into one another like a pileup on a motorway, “that chap whose running up the side of the big red wall? He’s having to exert more force than the gravity pulling him _down_ to make it up.”

“Right,” James said, plucking the bottle out of Q’s hand, “no more alcohol for you.”

“What?” Q complained, trying to lunge for the bottle, “I’m being behaved!”

“You’re talking science,” James replied, easily holding back the slight Quartermaster with one arm.

“You say that to _anyone_ who invokes the laws of physics,” Q complained, “just because _you_ don’t like maths doesn’t mean that anyone _else_ doesn’t like invoking the laws of physics.”

“You are only talking science because you’re drunk,” James said, pointing to the maths that had been scribbled across the back of the TV guide with Q’s drunken handwriting to explain how one of the contestants had done a dramatic double backflip off a thin beam and into the water below.

“I’m not drunk,” Q retorted, “you always drink on missions.”

“Sensible quantities,”

“Your medical records disagreed,”

“Aren’t those supposed to be confidential?” James asked.

Q shrugged with a confidence that only a drunk person could exhibit.

“Might have been,” Q replied, “I was just _concerned.”_

“Q,” James said seriously, noting the glint of excitement in the other’s eye, “what have you done?”

“I,” Q said, beaming with pride, “might have signed you up to the next series of _Total Wipeout,”_

“Oh God help me,” James said.

“Plead to the deities all you like,” Q slurred, “you’re still doing it. I might have forged your signature on the documents as well.”


	43. One Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q was terrified of water. He was even more terrified of drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a lovely fluffy prompt by dear-daddy-stars which asked for: 'Q fell in water but he don't know how to swim so Bond gonna save him and Bond is so glad he rescued him in time but he was so worried at the same time that he can't stop stop complaining "Really Q ?! You can't swim ?!' and then I added angst. Hope you like it anyway!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Water terrified Q.

It was the silence that came with it that scared him most, only hearing the dull thud of his blood pumping in his ears accompanying the furious struggle to get to the surface.

There was nothing to hold onto here. There was nothing _solid,_ the water kept sliding over his fingers in a taunt that made Q want to scream with frustration.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to scream _oh so badly,_ but he kept his mouth shut.

He didn’t want to drown.

He wouldn’t drown.

His shirt flapped around his arms, buttons ripped free from where he had struggled against his assailant. The material looked almost ethereal as it floated past his eyeline, like a jellyfish which was determined to bind his fate to a watery grave.

His sight started to go, the salt water stung his eyes too much now. His head pounded like there was a thousand wardrums beating out a funeral march inside his skull. Every movement became harder, he could feel his movements becoming less sluggish.

It was his worse nightmare to die in the water.

Then, there was a strong arm wrapping around his waist. He could feel himself moving, the water rushing past his skin as he was propelled towards the surface.

Air had never tasted so sweet, but he gulped it in like it was wine delivered from the gods themselves.

“You can’t swim,” James’ voice in his ear whispered, “I’m so teaching you how to swim, Q.”

Q. Yes, that was his name. In the panic of the water, in the noise of the wardrums, he had forgotten who he really was. His body had shut down, just fighting for survival.

“Obviously,” Q replied, trying to fill his words with the usual level of sarcasm. However, the way he clung to James made it clear that he was very much _not_ okay with the situation.

“I’ll have to teach you,” James said, pulling Q towards the safety of the shore.

“One day,” Q murmured into James’ shoulder, “one day.”


	44. Inked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It tickles,” James’ muffled voice came from the pillows. He was splayed out across the bed, totally naked, arms splayed out to allow Q to view every inch of his body from his perch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum who provided me with the prompt 'Inked'. Hope you like it dear!
> 
> AN: This would probably be considered Mature or whatever because people are naked in it.

Q used short, sharp strokes to create the picture. His hand was steady, mind totally focussed, as he dipped his brush into the inkpot that was carefully balanced on a tray which lay on the bedsheets next to him. He was concentrating totally on the picture, his mind mentally mapping out where the next stroke would go.

 His art would only work on this kind of ink, drawn directly onto the skin and then Cast to leave a permanent image in its wake. A kind of tattoo that no one else could create, apart from the few Forgers whose blood allowed them to drawn on the magics of Nature herself to cast pictures into another humans skin.

“It tickles,” James’ muffled voice came from the pillows. He was splayed out across the bed, totally naked, arms splayed out to allow Q to view every inch of his body from his perch.

“Stop moving then,” Q replied, trying to pin James’ wriggling legs down with his feet. Whilst he enjoyed using James’ bum as a seat, it did irritate him every time James attempted to wriggle out of his grasp.

“It _tickles_ and you know it,” James muttered. Q rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, dipping the brush into the inkpot and bending over James’ back. The image was almost complete, a lone wolf standing alone on a snowy mountain top. Q only had to finish the last few strokes of the wolf’s tail and then he could Cast the image into his lover’s body.

“Nearly there,” Q said, adding the wolf’s tail. Once Cast, the wolf would move around James’ body like it was alive. However, unlike normal Tattoos, a Cast would protect James from the dangers of the world by healing his body. The wolf would run to the point of injury and call upon Nature’s magic to heal the wound. It wouldn’t heal anything life threatening, but the wolf would protect James in the field where Q could not.

“Tickles,” James harrumphed into the pillows. The agent purposely flexed his shoulder muscles to try and distract Q, but Q was not going to fall for that trick just yet.

 _Later though,_ Q thought, as he carefully put the brush next to the ink pot. Now came the tricky bit, and something he hadn’t practiced in a while.

 _Well of course not,_ a small voice reminded Q, _you only said you would do this for your soulmate._

Q leant forward and placed his hands carefully on either side of the wolf. He arched his back, ensuring no other part of him touched James and smudged the ink.

Then he shut his eyes and concentrated on his heartbeat.

The only way he could access Nature’s magic and Cast the image onto James was by pulling the magic out of himself and putting into James. It was a gesture of pure emotion, one which had to come from the heart itself.

Q focussed on the feel of James’ skin under his fingers, the soft rise and fall of his ribcage as he drew in perfectly evened breaths. Q was close enough to James’ back to feel his own breath coast across James’ skin. He could feel his own heartbeat against his ribs, and the distance between each _thump_ getting slower with every passing moment.

 _There,_ Q thought to himself, as he found the door to the magic. In his mind, he viewed it like a door just out of his line of sight, that seemed to have a light so bright locked behind it that the light leaked around the small gap between the door and the frame. He reached out towards the door, and touched it lightly.

In his mind, Q held a tiny speck of light between his thumb and forefinger. Still listening to the timing of his heartbeat, he breathed out slowly, imagining the small speck of light travelling from his lungs to James’ back.

Casting looked like it happened almost instantaneously to an onlooker. However, Q knew the importance of the focus he needed to will the magic into the form of the wolf. Behind his shut eyelids, a flash of blue light burst into the room, and he could feel James’ body respond to the sharp shock.

Q tentatively opened his eyes, and smiled as he saw that the small wolf had disappeared from between his hands.

“Is it done?” James asked, pulling his face out of the pillows and contorting his neck so he could just see Q out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” Q replied, sliding down on top of James and circling his arms around the other’s larger body, “now you’re protected even when you’re on the other side of the world.”

James chuckled, a deep mellow sound that always made Q smile with how rich it was, before twisting in Q’s arms and pulling the Quatermaster into a fierce kiss.


	45. Music of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q played the piano to speak the feelings that words could not express. Namely, how he loved James Bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sappy as hell, and this is what happens when I listen to too much Einaudi when I have not slept enough.
> 
> (also everyone should go listen to Einaudi's piano music because it is like bliss bottled in piano form)

Q played the piano to express his thoughts.

Words were too tight. They were too constrictive for the vast intensity of human emotion, they were like little packets you had to force your emotions into to describe what you were feeling.

Say, for example, happiness.

What was happiness?

As Q’s fingers danced over the keys, the route marked by no sheet music other than the one he just felt spilling out from his very heart. A light key, a few high notes, a soft touch and a gentle melody.

Happiness could be a major key, a triumph over all adversity. Happiness could be bold chords, run out in the quiet space between the hammer and the string inside the instrument, the sound echoing through the wood and reverberating through the air.

In words, however, happiness was confined. Happiness was confined to what the reader _considered_ to be happiness, it was interpretation in its most literal and heartless form. Happiness to one person could be a memory of a warm summers day in an open field and to another it could be a cold winter’s morning where their breath would intermingle with the first drops of drew on the orange leaves.

With music, however, Q could spill out all the nuances that words failed to express. With a more firm touch on the keys, he could spell out his happiness he _should_ hold, the happiness that had whips of jealously laced around its pure intention. With a simple tune in the right hand he could write the melodic tunes that his heart sung out whenever he felt that his entire _self_ could burst from happiness, and with his left he could play the undertones of trepidation and nervousness that he could feel in the very darkest corners of his soul.

Now that was an emotion which deserved a complex tune, one with quick quavers and sharp chords. It would be a mixture of high notes and low notes, all dancing together to make the entire piano shake with the sound of uncertainty and fear that gripped every human being in their very core. It was the tune he had played beneath the happiness, now transferred to both hands so he could open the flood gates and allow the thoughts and anger to escape into sound.

With the lack of thought came the moment between waking and sleeping. It was the part of every person’s mind that would hang between conscious and subconscious, the part which _wished_ and _hoped,_ the part which could only be represented between the pauses between complex slurred tunes that would run into one another like waves crashing against the shore.

Q almost stumbled when his thoughts turned to James, his fingers slipping for the barest of heartbeats. Of course, it was James to whom he had tied all his emotions, his heart belonged to the other man. His hands stumbled in a melody that intertwined all the previous ones, as if his hands were trying to find the _right_ song to explain the complexity of the word through a thousand different combination of notes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see James leaning on the door frame, with the glass of whiskey in his hand. No doubt he wore a smile on his face, he always loved listening to Q play the piano in the evening.

The melody shifted, to a tune that was based upon the stead rhythm of a heartbeat. Yet intertwined around, Q weaved a story of hope for the future, spelling out with music what words would fail to even come close to saying.

It was more than ‘I love you’.

‘I love you’ was mere words.

Words were too tight. They were too constrictive for the vast intensity of human emotion. After all, Q thought them like little packets you had to force your emotions into to describe what you were feeling.

This was Q’s soul, bared through song and sound.

Q finished, letting the last note ring out through the room. In the silence that descended upon the room, Q could swear he felt his soul slowly drift back inside him like a flower closing up after the sun had passed.

“Beautiful,” James said. His voice, rich and deep, breaking the silence like a pickaxe through ice.

Q breathed in the word, letting it fill his entire body with the complexity of the feeling that was behind it.

“Yes you are,” he replied.


	46. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James celebrates New Year and Christmas by bringing Q breakfast in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kelli who prompted 'Bond is on a mission during Christmas, so Q and he can't celebrate. No harm in celebrating christmas on new year, right?'. Hope you like it! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“Merry Christmas, Bond,” Q said over the headset. James could hear how the words hurt Q, and in truth sitting in an outpost in Japan whilst it was pissing down with rain wasn’t exactly his idea of fun either.

“Merry Christmas, Q,” James replied, checking the timer for the bomb. In five minutes, the whole factory in the valley below was going to be blown to smithereens, along with any evidence that James had infiltrated the place. Q had set up the explosion to make it look like an accident, the bomb that James had planted that morning had taken a good few months for Q branch to develop.

“3 minutes,” Q said, as James watched the time click down on the timer in front of him.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t the way Christmas is supposed to be celebrated,” James said.

“And how is it supposed to be celebrated?” Q asked. James could hear the silent plea in the Quatermaster’s voice, a plea to tell him what James _would_ do if he wasn’t sitting in Japan waiting for a building to explode.

“Well we would get up late for a start,” James said, watching the timer tick down to _2:00 minutes,_ “and I’ll make you breakfast in bed with a cup of earl grey tea and a proper English breakfast.”

“No beans though,” Q said.

“I still can’t believe you don’t like baked beans,” James chuckled, a smile appearing unbidden on his face.

“ _One minute, Bond,”_ Q replied. James looked back to the site, scowling up at the sky as if to dissuade the weather gods from making it rain any further. At this rate, the explosion could be affected, the cataclysmic fireball that was needed to make it look like an accident would turn into a small _poof_ of flame.

“Q,” James said, “are you sure-”

James was cut off when the factory below was consumed in flame. The sound followed, rumbling out across the surrounding valley in a shockwave of cataclysmic noise that made James cover his ears as it hit his hiding spot.

“What were you saying?” Q asked. He sounded remarkably smug, daring James to have doubted his technology.

“Could you put that in a pen?” James asked.

“No,” Q replied.

“Not even as a Christmas Present?” James asked.

Q chuckled.

“I have other plans for you for Christmas,” he replied.

x-x-x

Q woke up on January 1st and felt an empty bed next to him.

He frowned, patting the empty side of the bed to ensure his eyes were not deceiving him. However, his hands told him what his eyes had kindly informed him mere moments before, that James definitely _wasn’t_ there.

 _What?_ Q thought. He had enough vivid memories of the night before, where James had come home from the airport and forced Q into a wall to start kissing him hard. Q was pretty sure that their clothes were strewn all around their flat, removed as their entangled bodies had made their way towards the bedroom the night before.

The door to the bedroom nudged open gently. Q smiled as James’ foot poked in the small gap between the door and the frame to kick it open. He was wearing the ridiculous socks that Q had bought him the year before, bright yellow with red polka dots on them in reference to the running joke between them that _no one_ would want yellow socks with red polka dots on them for Christmas.

“Merry Christmas,” James beamed as Q propped the pillows behind him and on James’ side so he could take the tray with the two cooked breakfasts on them from James.

“Happy New Year,” Q said, as James scrambled into bed next to him.

“You like?” James said, nodding down to the breakfasts that Q held on the tray.

Q pressed a kiss to James’ cheek.

“Not as much as you,” he replied.


	47. Softie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am a grown ass man, Q,” James growled, “I do not need a kitten to help me ‘switch off’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum who prompted 'Q gets Bond a kitten. Bond pretends to be offended - “I AM A GROWN ASS MAN Q” - but loves the little furrball so much'. Hope you like it! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

The first day was the funniest, although Q would never admit it to James.

The fact that one of MI6’s top agents was looking at a small orange cat with a level of distrust he reserved only for government officials and terrorists, was highly amusing. Mostly because the kitten herself seemed to _love_ James, and continually bounced around on the sofa in a futile attempt to make James do something more than hide behind the armrest and stare at her.

“I am a grown ass man, Q,” James growled, “I do not need a kitten to help me ‘switch off’.”

Q grinned at the comment.

“I’ll go put the tea on,” he said, “you look after Zelda.”

“Her name is _Zelda?”_ James said.

“I gave her it on the way home,” Q shrugged, “I figured it fits.”

“Can’t we just call her trouble?” James asked.

“No,” Q replied.

James grumped some swear words under his breath as Q left the small sitting room to go into the kitchen.

x-x-x

“Right, Trouble,” James said, staring at Zelda with a stern stare, “you have to sleep on your bed.”

It was week two of what James had now called ‘Q made a fucking stupid decision to bring a Cat home saga’, or the ‘Fucks Sake Q’ saga for short. Q didn’t really care, he enjoyed watching James fervently suggest that he _hated_ all small creatures whilst caring for Zelda with as much care an attention as he gave to Q.

Q was almost slight jealous. _Almost._

If he didn’t love James so much, he probably _would_ be jealous.

“She gets scared,” Q said, “she doesn’t like sleeping in the kitchen.”

“Yes but you have to establish dominance,” James replied, picking up Zelda and putting her back into her bed gently as she tried to sneak out whilst James was looking away.

“Isn’t that with dogs?” Q asked.

James shot him A Glance. It was the same kind of glance he gave international mob gangs right before blowing their base up.

“It’s with all animals,” James said, “Trouble-”

“Zelda,” Q interrupted.

“has to learn where she’s supposed to sleep,” James continued.

Zelda put her front paws on James’ leg and mewed up at him. Q smiled as James’ expression softened, petting Zelda on her head.

“Maybe we can bring your bed into our room,” James said, “would you like that Trouble?”

Zelda mewed again.

“I said she would grow on you,” Q smirked, “you’re not as mean as you want to make out.”

“I can be tough,” James said, carefully pulling Zelda into his arms and stroking her head, “but not mean. Anyway, she’s only been with us for two weeks, I let you stay in the bedroom after _two days.”_

“Whatever,” Q replied, pushing himself off the doorframe to pick up Zelda’s bed, “you’re a massive softie.”

x-x-x

Q came home late one evening, a month after Zelda’s bed had been moved into the bedroom. James was off duty that week, he was supposed to be re-cooperating from the blow to the head he had suffered on his previous mission but the staff down in medical had discharged him early because he kept pissing off the doctors.

The flat was silent, even though the lights were on. James had promised Q he would stay up waiting for him to come home, citing the fact he had the entire of _Orphan Black_ to watch on Netflix. In fact, the TV was still playing, bubbling out voices at a volume that was barely audible.

Q shut the door quietly behind him, shrugging off his coat and putting his umbrella by the door. Creeping into the lounge, he couldn’t help a smile creep across his face as he saw James curled up on the sofa, Zelda in his arms, tucked under a blanket for warmth. Both of them were sound asleep, their breathing slow and steady.

“You are a massive sofie,” Q said, sliding his phone out of his pocket and taking a photo.

After all, James would say that he _would never_ let Zelda onto the sofa whilst he was sitting on it, but now Q had proof to suggest otherwise.


	48. New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Magic!” one of them shouted, their bobble hat flicking this way and that as they bounced in delight. James smiled, leaning forward like a magician as he flicked his hand around to generate a tiny flower-system from mid-air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who is an enabler and prompted me with something in the starlighter universe :)

When Q stumbled upon James drunkenly creating small Starsystems on earth he had intended to unleash the full level of wrath on the misbehaving Starlighter. Their powers were supposed to be _secret_ from humanity, after all it was not one of the planets that the Ten had unanimously agreed to put on the List. It was only after a planet or its system had been put on the List, then the starlighters could reveal their powers to the resident lifeforms if they so wished to cultivate a religious cult following.

Earth, however, was considered too delicate for such a reveal. The Ten had seen wars fought violently over religions so complex and nuanced that they had decreed that revealing one’s powers on the planet would have too much of a negative impact upon the local ecosystem. Q could understand their points, although the Ten had nevervisited Earth in _person,_ so they wouldn’t understand how vastly imaginative the human race could be.

Q found James in a busy park on what the humans considered New Years Eve. He hid in the Nether, the area between reality and non-reality, watching James in order to assess how to proceed.

James was drunk, that was for sure. No, he wasn’t totally inebriated as Q had seen some humans get, after all no human alcohol could have intoxicated him properly. _Relaxing_ was probably a better word, as James peered at the excited faces of the herd of small humans he had amassed around him.

“Magic!” one of them shouted, their bobble hat flicking this way and that as they bounced in delight. James smiled, leaning forward like a magician as he flicked his hand around to generate a tiny flower-system from mid-air. The children watched, enraptured with the display, as their parents muttered to one another as they tried to work out how James managed the trick.

James continued the display for a good fifteen more Earth minutes, making the stars float around the children’s head as they tried to catch them with their gloved hands. Q couldn’t help at smile at the pure innocence of the display, as pride for James begun to swell through his chest.

Then, James finished the display, citing that he had a magical ball to attend to and was going to be late if he didn’t leave. The children protested, but their parents managed to whisk them away before any could excel towards a full blown temper tantrum.

When no one was looking towards him, James _shifted_ into the Nether. Here, no human would be able to perceive James and Q, although some might feel a light brush of cold on their arm that they would put down to the wind, or a ghost.

“James,” Q said, as James strolled over towards him, “you know the rules,”

“The Ten will never know,” James said, grinning as he slid his arms around Q’s waist, “because you’ll never tell them.”

“You can’t be so blasé,” Q frowned, trying to dodge James’ lips as the other attempted to silence him with a kiss, “you _know_ that.”

“Mmmhum,” James murmured into Q’s neck, “and you were smiling at me, I saw you.”

Q grumbled at James, whose grin grew larger in reply.

“You _know_  I meant no harm,” James said. Above them, fireworks begun to explode as the humans greeted the new year with burning metals that flashed bright colours against the delicate backdrop of the night sky.

“You know there is a human tradition where you kiss someone on New Years day,” James smiled as he curled his hand around the back of Q’s neck. Q lent forwards, allowing James to kiss him properly as the cheers of the humans rose around them to celebrate the turn of a new year.

 


	49. Alternatives to shooting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Q gets frustrating at his slow progress during shooting practice, he reverts to technology rather than bullets to destroy the target. James is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kelli who prompted: "James teaches Q how to shoot." Hope you like this! :D 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“I swear the movies have given me an entirely underrepresented view on how bloody irritating these weapons can be,” Q said, waving his hand in the general direction of the disengaged handgun on the table in front of him. Downrange, a fully sized shooting target, like the one James had used to pass his initial tests for 00 status, stood totally unharmed by any of the bullets that Q had shot in its direction.

Or more precisely _general_ direction. Q blamed his glasses, James blamed the fact that the infamous Quartermaster of MI6 had a habit of getting frustrated when he couldn’t get something right first time.

“There is a reason why field agents need to have years of training to be able to shoot,” James said, trying not to stoke the flames of frustration any further.

“Oh don’t give me that,” Q said pulling a small pen out of his pocket and twisted the top of the lid. James yelped in surprise as the paper target suddenly burst into flames.

Then the fire alarm went off, followed swiftly by the water sprinklers.

James’ first reaction was instinctual, swiping the handgun components off the table with a practiced ease and hiding them under his jacket. Q scrunched his nose in annoyance, pushing his glasses up to his forehead with the tip of the ‘pen’ that he had just used to set alight to the shooting target.

“This is not very helpful,” Q remarked, raising his eyebrow at James, “although I think you’ll find I _did_ destroy the target.”

“The point of shooting practice is to _shoot_ the target, not to set it on fire,”

“It worked though,”

“Tell me,” James asked, “does that pen work on a person?”

Q’s eyes lit up with the passion of genius when it is fed with a new idea.

“Oh god,” James said, “I wish I had never asked.”


	50. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Q, touches spoke more than mere words. So James took every opportunity to speak Q's language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For luvemishacollins who prompted me with "Q really likes touches, not on a sexual base but all daily touches. And when he is sad, he need even more hugs and touches. And Bonds finds out and just cuddles with him for ages :3". I hope you like this! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“I like us holding hands,” Q said, lacing his fingers through James’ as they walked along the bustling streets of London. It was one of the things they liked to do when neither of them was trying to tackle international crime gangs at MI6.

“Why?” James asked, curious. Before Q, he had always considered his touches to be a weapon, a way to coerce people into doing what James wanted them to do, or to tell him information that they to which they were privy.

“It grounds me,” Q said, looking up at the clear blue sky and bright sunlight that streamed down through the atmosphere to his feet.

Touches to Q were something more innocent entirely, and James couldn’t help but smile.

x-x-x

When Q struggled with his confidence, on days he was crushed and withering in the bottom of whatever metaphorical pit that his mid had constructed for him, James would simply hold Q in his arms.

Words never worked, because words needed interpretation. They passed through the air like ghosts until someone heard them and responded.

Touch, however, was one of the most powerful senses the human mind could conjure. It was _real,_ intimate, and didn’t rely on the constraints of _definitions_ and _interpretation._

Touch just _was._ When James held Q in his arms, he caressed Q’s hair and ran his thumb down the side of Q’s neck. Q simply breathed in the motion, eyes flickering underneath shut eyelids, trying to regain control of his spiralling thoughts.

When Q had scrambled his way out of the other side, and his confidence and humour were back as they once was, he would give James a hug. Not words, words could not say _thank you_ or _you helped me so much_ properly enough. Words were constrained by sound, by the very syllables they created.

A hug was a direct touch to someone’s thoughts, and that was all Q needed.

x-x-x

When James went away on a mission, Q would snuggled in close to James on their last night together. James would wrap his arms around the smaller man and pull him in tight, savouring every last second of the precious moments they had together.

Then James would go, to far off countries and dangerous places where death lurked in the daylight streets as well as in the shadows. Yet when he heard Q whispering directions in his earpiece, it was the memory of Q’s touch that held him together with a stubborn determination to return back home.

x-x-x

“I love you,” would be the first words that James would utter when he returned home. Q would wrap his hands around James’ neck and pull him into a long kiss that spoke the depths of his love for James that words could never capture.

“I love you, too,” Q would reply.


	51. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was nothing more irritating than an armed gang try and interrupt their date night, but Q figured he might as well make the best of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For teriantimelord10 who prompted "00Q date night goes wrong. Horribly, MI-6 style, wrong.". I hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Q found that there was something mildly therapeutic in refusing to listen to a hostage taker’s demands and instead continuing to eat his still warm pizza with the dogged determination of a man who likes pizza so much that nothing short of a shotgun to the head would stop him.

It was lucky for Q, in that regard, that the shotgun was being pointed at James’ head instead of his own. James looked mildly perturbed by the weapon, and seemed more irritated that the gang attack on the restaurant had chosen possibly the worst set of weapons to attack mostly harmless diners.

Mostly harmless, because James could probably disarm half of the men packed around their tiny table (why was it that when couples went on dates restaurants seemed to use the _smallest_ tables to try and squeeze two partners together?). The other half Q would be able to send a surprise in the form of an electric sock due to the fact that their Bluetooth headsets had abysmal security protocol and Q had hacked into the signal with his phone before the first balaclava head had set their booted feet through the door.

“Where’s the fuking code?” the man with the shotgun said through a muffled balaclava.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name?” Q asked, picking up another piece of pizza and biting down on it. The restaurant here did make some quite _excellent_ pizza, which is why both James and Q normally frequented this particular establishment.

“Fuking _tell me,”_ the man with a balaclava said, pushing the shotgun into James’ head, “or I’ll blow your puff’s brain out.”

 _Steve then,_ Q thought. After all, if a man wasn’t going to give you their name, it was only polite to call them _something_ other than ‘aggressive man with balaclava’.

 Q had once known a Steve who was a really nasty son-of-a-bitch. It was appropriate, then, that Balaclava Man, would be given the same name.

“Look, Steve,” Q said, putting the piece of pizza down with a resigned sigh. A flicker of confusion crossed Steve’s face at his new name, and James rolled his eyes because he knew when Q was messing with people just for the fun of it.

“The code is nothing more than a harmless piece of tracking software designed to learn keystrokes and infiltrate the most secure systems and then feed out packets of information back to its source,” Q said, “it’s really nothing to be interested about.”

“It took away my bosses fuking money,” Steve replied, the anger his voice muted by the rough material balaclava. Through the material, Q could see the flashing blue light of Steve’s headset which was most likely relaying instructions from the Powers That Be.

“Ooops,” Q said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest, “I’m sure your boss will find new ways of creating money though, I mean to him that’s only small change.”

“He don’t fecking like it-” one of the other balaclava men said. Q decided to call him Kevin.

“ _Doesn’t,”_ Q corrected, “and that’s just a fact of life. Now if you gentlemen would like to excuse me, my boyfriend and I have a date to enjoy.”

James, by this point was giving Q a rather dark look which essentially said _stop screwing with them Q I am not enjoying the whole ‘shotgun to my head’ thing that’s going on here._

“We were told to bring you back to boss,” Kevin said, “and if you don’t like that then we’re to _make_ you come with us.”

There were about four men behind James, and another three guarding the door. Q only needed a few seconds to send the electric shock through their headsets, and no doubt _someone_ had already called the police when a group of armed men stormed into an Italian.

Q tapped James on the leg under the table. James nodded, just slightly, to say he understood.

James’ reactions always impressed Q, but he managed to quickly pick up the bottle of beer on the table (James’ favourite variety, he was going to be most disappointed at the waste) and smash it up into Steve’s face whilst pushing the shotgun up towards the ceiling.

The shotgun blast caused havoc, with people screaming and plaster falling. As James then swung around to tackle Kevin and smash his head into the remains of James’ dinner, Q pulled out his phone and sent the required lines of code to make the headsets overheat and spark.

The screams of the customers were followed by the deeper yowls of agony from the rest of the Balaclava gang, who fell to their knees almost in unison as they clutched their heads in agony.

It took James about 30 seconds to incapacitate the rest of the men with a bit more pain, including a variety of punches to the stomach and one very accurate kick to Steve’s balls.

Q’s phone buzzed in his hand, as the called ID _EVE_ flashed up on his phone.

Q accepted the call.

“I’ve heard there’s trouble at a certain Italian,” Eve said, sounding rather calm and more perturbed her evening was interrupted by Q and James’ antics, “do you have it all under control?”

“It’s mostly sorted,” Q said, as James put one of the men into a rather painful looking wrist lock and growled various profanities into his ear,  “are the police on their way?”

“They should be there in five,” Eve replied.

“Fantastic,” Q said, picking up another piece of pizza and taking a hearty bite, “I might be able to finish my pizza then.”


	52. Dancing Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Q had a bad habit of dancing along to ABBA songs and miming the words with great vigour and far too little coordination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum who prompted me "James and Q will always at some point sing duets of ABBA songs. Especially if they’re both in the same room bored at work". Hope you like it! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond or the various ABBA references in this. It is written for fun and not for profit.

There was an unsaid secret in Q branch that when James and Q were in the same room together for an extended period that _no one_ was to disturb them.

Not because of the eventual sex. Well, okay the occasional sex but that wasn’t the point of comment.

Instead, it was the ABBA songs.

Now, there was nothing wrong with ABBA (as Q mentioned on numerous occasions) and clearly their claim to fame meant they couldn’t be _that_ bad (as James mentioned on further numerous occasions) but still Eve had been forced to ask maintenance to put soundproof walls around Q’s office to prevent both the noise of ‘Dancing Queen’ and the noise of sexual activities (not at the same time, Q branch wasn’t _that_ weird) from disturbing the rest of the workforce.

Another time, Eve had stumbled in on James and Q doing a perfect lip sync (with accompanying dance moves) to ‘Take a Chance on me’. The ridiculous movements that Q called dancing (imagine a pigeon being stuck in maple syrup and trying to break free) and James’ miming skills which looked something akin to a goldfish were enough to make her laugh so hard that she checked into Medical at the end of the day to make sure she hadn’t pulled something.

Whenever either James or Q was asked about the ridiculous dancing and miming, they simply quoted that ‘true love had no boundaries’ and ‘MI6 needed livening up’.

Needless to say, Eve ensured that at the Christmas karaoke that year that there was an entire _segment_ of ABBA songs so Q and James could demonstrate to the rest of workforce of MI6 just how strong true love could be.

(It went down as the best karaoke in _years_ )


	53. Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing that could break though Q's panic driven sobs was James' quiet words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who wanted a highschool AU fic where James comforts a crying Q who is having a panic over an assignment. Hope you like it dear!!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

There were those times when everything just felt like _crap_ and Q felt like the entire world was collapsing around him when he just curled up on the floor and sobbed.

It wasn’t a proud moment. It was a raw moment, a moment where the façade of snarky top-of-the-class know it all had to accept that he _didn’t_ know it all for once. It was the moment where Q could feel the lack of control slipping through his fingers, as his tears smudged the strewn papers around his feet that represented the sum total of his work for the assignment which was due _bloody tomorrow._

He was a planner, and normally he was organised and efficient about these kind of assignments. However, this particular professor was also a class A asshole who seemed to enjoy setting essays in the vaguest sentences ever constructed by a person in the history of man. It was the kind of essay title which had Q staring at his computer screen for three hours just trying to work out _what_ the question was asking, whether it was the development of code as a _separate language_ (which would require far too much research on the nature of linguistics and he was a _fucking computer science student_ ) or whether it was an analysis of types of code themselves and which code was the most efficient for specific types of operations (which would require far too much research on different codes to provide enough of a comparison).

All in all it was a stupid essay, a stupid assignment, and _a really stupid_ thing to be crying about on his floor at midnight before the essay was due.

A knock at the door broke Q from his sobs. He raised his sore head tentatively, the coffee he had drunk (triple strength, probably damaging some brain cells in the process) was giving him the worst caffeine hangover of his life.

“What,” Q croaked, impatience and frustration lacing itself into even those mere four letters. The door opened slowly, and a blond mop of hair which topped a rugged face poked through the small gap.

“Not good?” James asked, sliding into the room with more finesse that his rugby-build would suggest was possible. James had learnt early on in their relationship that asking Q about what crisis he was having was like poking an angry bear. Instead, less words was the best approach to take.

“No,” Q replied, lowing his head onto the floor and wrapping himself tightly into a ball. More sobs racked his body as his thoughts spiralled out of control. Panic was a horrible feeling, it felt like he was being clawed to death by invisible monsters that were determined to remove every ounce of confidence and self control Q could muster.

Warm arms encircled his shaking body, as James pressed a kiss gently onto the back of Q’s head.

“I’ve got you,” James said, “we can get through this.”

Q cried, but the words calmed the stormy thoughts which crashed against the inside of his skull. James continued to press kisses down the back of Q’s neck, pressing his torso into Q’s back as a way to anchor Q to the real world.

“I can’t do it,” Q hissed into his circled arms. James pressed a kiss into the small part of Q’s cheek that remained exposed.

“Yes you can,” James said, “come here.”

Q moved instinctually, unwrapping himself from his ball on the floor to turn towards James and press his wet cheek into James shoulder, snuggling into the other man with desperation.

James’ hug was one of comfort and hope. Q could still feel his thoughts spiralling inside his head, but now they were muted against the feeling of warmth that spread across his skin in the trail of James’ touch.

“Love you,” Q said. It was a thank you, of sorts, driven from the most self conscious part of his soul.

“Love you too,” James replied, “forever and always.”

 


	54. Fundamental Forces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q watches the day give way to night, and the universe unfurl in front of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, as a belated birthday gift! Hope you've had a lovely birthday, and you deserve a happy year full of lots of happy things <3
> 
> This is also for Kelli, who is awesome beyond all levels of awesomeness and is a brilliant friend <3
> 
> This is in the same universe as  
> [Starlight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1777789), [Sunrise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1812595), [Eon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1832206), [Lightstars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/2052775), [To Be a God](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/4339797), and  
> [New Year](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/6819026)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

There are moments in time where the world is in a period of transition.

When the sun sets, it doesn’t just disappear below the horizon. Instead, it slides away from the sky, taking with it all the bright colours that sunshine illuminates. It is as if the sun pulls away the veil of the Earth’s blue sky with a gentle hand, revealing the darkness of the universe which lies behind it. Instead of the brilliant blue of the daylight summer sky, dark colours sweep across the palette to paint a new picture of the sky.

A picture that is dark, void, and full of the emptiness of space.

The dark sky silhouettes the world, leeching the colour and shapes that make up the human existence and leaving nothing but a dark outline of their presence against a grey-blue sky. Buildings that are made of glass become nothing more than simple rectangles and triangles against this sky as their modern architectural beauty is removed. Street lights flicker on, illuminating small patches of a now shadowy street, small pools of light pushing back the night time darkness. People walk, now with a determined purpose that is brought on by the close of the day, heads down against the universe that is opening up above them. They look, instead, to the grey pavement that falls away beneath their long strides, counting the steps in time with the rhythm of the music that is piped in through their headphones.

The twilight is upon the world now, as the final hues of blue begin to give way to the patches of darkness that is shining through. Stars, glittering high above, twinkle through the backdrop. They are like the first gentle notes on a piano, their light so gentle that they barely caress the retinas of those few humans who look upwards at the majesty unfolding above them.

Q sits, and watches this performance from one of the many rooftops of London. Most humans would consider the reveal of the night sky to be something that happens in a linear procession, but Q knows better than a mortal human. After all, he can feel the _thrum_ of the burning stars that twinkles high above. He can feel the heat of their surface, feel their ever undulating mass changing with every passing moment. He can even feel the turn of the universe itself, the way space stretched as it flies outwards towards the edges of known existence. He feels it like a human would feel the wind against their cheek, it is a gentle, yet sharp, cold brushing over his ethereal form.

No, it is not linear, but more an orchestration. Instead of a musician playing the music from the beginning of a song through to the end, it is an improvised tale that has no beginning or ending, it simply just _is._

In some ways, Q considers that this performance above him is like how he experiences time. After all, time to a Starlighter is something that does not run linear. Sometimes, Q is the one who tutors James, and other times it is James who tutors Q in the ways of the universe. It isn’t that the other is more experienced or older than the other, but instead it is their very nature as Starlighters which means that they constantly dance around the concepts of _time_ and _space_ like two lovers dancing across an empty ballroom. They are both learn and teach the other whilst they glide across the galaxies, building new parts of the universe.

Yet even though time is something as elastic as the very winds that blow across the Earth’s surface, Q always knows that James is important. That _they,_ together, are important to one another. It is the kind of importance that one would ascribe to the very fundamental forces of the universe, the forces which bind the universe to invisible rules, and binds even _existence_ itself to those same rules.

It is the force that tells Q that he is not alone in the vast space of the universe. It is a force that shines brighter than even the most distant of stars which have burned lightyears of distance across the galaxies to shimmer in the night sky above him. It is a force that warms the cold brush of the expanding universe against his arms, rounding out the edges of the universe’s biting coldness.

“Q?” James asks. Q turns around, smiling at his fellow Starlighter. Here, against the darkness, James shines brighter than the sunlight which has streamed over this city for the past day. He is radiant, not just in terms of light but also in _strength._ Q can see the bristling powers that flow through James’ body like blood through a human. Q can even see the tiny supernova, constantly collapsing and rebirthing that acted the same as a heart for a mortal human.

“Come, sit,” Q gestures to the space next to him. James does as he is asked, and the two Starlighters sit and watch the universe unfold from the perspective of those living beings that inhabit Earth. It is a humbling, quiet moment, as the two beings simply _experience_ the universe instead of building new galaxies and nurturing new stars into life.

Q looks at James, as the other Starlighter gazes up into the black sky above. He smiles, as his own pulsating supernova matches James’ exactly.

They are in time, the two of them. They are bound together, dancing through the universe, from the beginnings of the universe to the ends of time.

The force that binds them together?

Love.


	55. Walkies!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q walks dogs (even though he's terrified of them) and James owns a dog. Some people would call it destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kelli who prompted me "Q is a dogwalker and hates dogs but needs the money and that one guy James, isn’t half bad either." Hope you like this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Q hated dogs.

He knew that it wasn’t the dog’s fault that it was a dog, but _still._ They looked funny, slobbered and peed on everything on a street. There was a pair of spaniels that lived across the road that just would not stop _barking_ at everything that moved.

Q would have thought that dogs possessed some _semblance_ of intelligence to know that barking at a car would not make the blind bit of difference. Especially at two in the morning.

Especially when it was _every_ 2 o’clock of _every_ morning.

Yet even Q’s hatred of the animals could not overrun his insatiable need for _money_ (because every broke University student liked money in the same way your average human liked oxygen).

And it was on one particular Wednesday afternoon, when the desperation for money was clawing at his brain as much as his stomach was growling for a meal that did not involve a pot noodle, that Q saw the advert for a dogwalker in the area to walk a small dog that had huge ears that looked like hairy satellite dishes on its small face.

 _Small dogs,_ Q thought, _I can deal with them._

x-x-x

The small dog was technically a _Papillon,_ and had been aptly named _Fifi_ by the elderly lady who had put out the advert.

“Now she’s harmless,” Irene, the elderly lady, said to Q as she passed over a leash that was decorated with tiny white bones and connected to an _incredibly_ energetic dog. Q looked at Fifi suspiciously, not sure how the small bundle of fur and energy could be ever considered _harmless._

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” Q said, smiling through his nerves as Irene waved him and Fifi off the porch and shut the door behind her.

“Cooperate with me,” Q said, rattling his pocket that was filled with dog biscuits. One quick google search had told him that most dogs like to be tempted with food, and so he had made a detour to the nearby petshop to get some treats to entice Fifi to behave.

Fifi took one look up at Q and yapped excitedly.

She then proceeded to pee on his shoe.

x-x-x

As the weeks progressed, Q and Fifi’s relationship (if Q would ever dare call it that, he was pretty sure he had more of a relationship with the one pair of socks that he had worn through most of his first year exams) seemed to mellow out towards a plateau of calmness. And not peeing on shoes.

However, Q quickly found that this dogwalking business was incredibly good for his bank balance. Not only had he been able to accumulate sufficient money to buy a beer at the pub but it also extended far enough to enable him to include vegetables in his weekly shop.

Now that was enough to continue his dogwalking adventures. It was even enough to consider offering his services to the neighbour of Irene next door who had a golden retriever who would appreciate a walk once a week.

So it came about that Q begun to walk a series of dogs, each one on a different day of the week, and earnt a pretty good amount of money from it. He even set up a facebook page for his ‘business’ as he liked to call it, mostly because his mate Gavin had bet that the infamous teccie Q would _never_ get a facebook page for something as menial as a dogwalking service.

However, with facebook pages came more requests for dogs to be walked, and so Q managed to get over his initial distaste of the furry canine ‘friends’ and make a considerable sum of money.

It was all going rather well until he got a message form a particular _James Bond_ about whether Q would walk his practically _enormous_ German Shepard.

x-x-x

Q knocked on James’ rather imposing door on a Tuesday summer evening with Fifi feeling slightly nervous. Firstly, because whilst Q had gotten used to dog’s Fifi’s size, he still didn’t like the wild glint that larger dogs held in their eyes that spoke of their wolf heritage. Secondly, because Fifi was still not fully trained and seemed to have a habit of peeing on Q’s shoe when she was scared.

The door opened a crack to reveal a man’s face poking around the corner, and half a dog’s nose snarling aggressively about four feet beneath it. It took all of Q’s strength not to pick up Fifi and bolt it back down the road in sheer terror at the growl that came from between the bared teeth of the dog.

“Q?” the man said, his voice a deep rumbling baritone. If he hadn’t been so terrified of the snarling jaws, Q might have even considered that the man’s voice was attractive. He might have even noted the stunning blue of the man’s eyes and the dusting of blonde hair that flopped across his forehead.

“James Bond?” Q asked, not even embarrassed that his voice had a squeaky quality of terror in it.

“Yes,” James replied, “give me a minute.”

James’ face disappeared, and the door shut firmly. Q could still hear the growing resonating through the door, and he gripped Fifi’s leash in pure fear. Fifi, however, seemed to be totally disconcerted by the loud growling monster that was on the other side of the door, and was instead sniffing a pot of flowers.

The door opened again, this time fully, to reveal a huge monstrous beast that was sitting quite firmly in the hallway of James’ house. James himself was standing slightly forward of the creature, as if blocking it form bolting out of the house and devouring Q alive.

“Sorry about her,” James said, glancing down at the heavily panting creature next to him, “she’s a bit protective.”

“A bit?” Q asked, looking at the dog nervously.

“Athena,” James said, catching the dogs attention, “friend.”

Athena looked up at James, totally ignoring both Q and Fifi. Q was almost impressed at how well trained the dog was, until she got up at a flick of James’ wrist and padded towards Q, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

“You can pet her if you want,” James said, “she’s harmless.”

“Uh huh,” Q said, taking his free hand and tapping the top of Athena’s head gently. She seemed to like it, licking Q’s hand with her huge rough tongue to say ‘thank you’.

It was at this point that Fifi took an interest in the monolithic dog that had appeared. She waddled up to Athena and peered up with an expression that Q could only imagine was one of confusion as to just _how_ a dog could become so huge.

“I’ll walk Athena with you for the first few walks,” James said, clipping a lead onto Athena that looked more like an industrial rope than a mere lead, “she’ll get used to you then.”

“Uh huh,” Q replied.

“Does your conversation extend beyond just ‘uh huh’?” James asked.

Q frowned, irritated.

“You’re the one with the huge dog,” he fired back, probably with too much venom than the situation required, “she might be friendly but she looks terrifying.”

Q paused, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Is her owner the same?” he asked.

James rolled his eyes.

“You can work that one out for yourself,” James said, nodding towards Fifi who had now lost interest in the huge dog and was tugging at her lead, impatient to be walked, “I think she’s trying to tell you something.”

“Her main form of communication is through peeing on things,” Q said, “she’s just impatient.”

“We’d best get going then,” James chuckled, “then you can find out if I’m just as terrifying as my dog.”


	56. Get rich quick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q managed to make himself a millionaire overnight with one silly app and now he's having a crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Castillon, who prompted me 'One of Q’s patents makes him obsecenly wealthy and Q doesn’t know how to deal'. Hope you like this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Q asked, pointing to the screen. The bank account balance was something _ludicrous,_ with enough zeros after the first _5_ to be considered as _ridiculously_ loaded.

The bloody wifi finder app had done it. It would enable anyone to find wifi wherever they were, even in the middle of nowhere. Apparently there was a market for that kind of thing, even for things that Q had made overnight one time when James had been abroad and Q had wanted to keep whatsapping pictures to James of their cat.

Also, the app had made Q very, very rich, almost overnight.

James shrugged. He didn’t really seem to understand the _gravity_ of the situation Q was in.

“Spend it,” James said, “buy stuff with it, give it away, whatever you want to do.”

Q glared at James, kicking him with his foot. James barely flinched.

“You’re being incredibly unhelpful you know,” Q remarked, “ _help.”_

“Write a list,” James suggested, “put everything you want on the list and then start at the top and work your way to the bottom.”

“But I don’t _need_ anything,” Q said, “there are people who would be far better off than me-”

“You can put them on the list too,” James said, “go through one of your crowdsourcing pages and just pay off people. Send a student a cheque. Go buy lots of alcohol.”

“That last one wouldn’t help anyone else,” Q said.

“It would help me,” James smiled, “and you know how much you love me.”

“I’ll buy us a holiday,” Q said slowly, bringing out his phone and tapping a list into it, “then I’m going to buy you a new suit, and _then_ I’m going to gives some of it to charity.”

“What are you going to do with tomorrows earnings then?” James asked.

“I’ll just start at the beginning of the list again,” Q smiled, “expect a lot of holidays darling, and not those holidays courtesy of MI6 where you get your arse shot at.”


	57. Inhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James was like a drug, you inhaled him and he took over your mind, body and soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, who prompted me with Sia's song 'Breathe Me'. Hope you like this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Q always ran to hug James whenever he first returned from a mission, and this time was no different.

James had barely stepped through the door when Q had snaked his arms around and pulled James in tight against his chest. The water from the rain outside was still dripping down James’ jacket, the water muting James’ sharp cologne that reminded Q of forgotten nights in hotel rooms when they had first dated one another.

“Missed you,” Q said. It was more than _‘I love you’,_ because for Q the concept of ‘love’ didn’t describe the way his heart felt free when James wrapped him in his arms. This feeling was more like the freedom Q felt when he watched the bird fly through the sky on his lonely weekend walks, free from constrictions of the world around them they could soar up into the heavens without anyone questioning them.

“Missed you too,” James murmured back. Q felt a gentle finger pushing up at his chin so James could kiss him. James could be a vivacious lover at times, but now this kiss was full of gentle lips and quiet feelings, a moment of thankfulness that they each had the other once more.

Q didn’t think, he just moved with instinct. He slid his hands inside James’ jacket, pulling up the corner of James’ shirt until he could place his warm hands on James’ cold back. James shivered at the touch, a low growl coming out of his throat as he tugged Q closer to him still. Their kiss became more frantic, more desperate, as Q found his senses simply revelling in James’ smell and touch. It was almost intoxicating, like a drug, sending Q’s mind spiralling into darker, more animal thoughts and drives that needed to be sated immediately.

“Bedroom,” Q said, pulling away from James’ fierce kissing to look up into James’ ice blue eyes. It was amazing, really, how such a cold colour could hold so much warmth and passion, but that was what Q saw when he gazed into James’ eyes.

“Where you lead, I’ll follow,” James replied.


	58. Past meets Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q's past life stops him from taking things any further with James. But when lives converge, it's time for Q to realise that maybe James might accept him for who he is after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the anon who prompted me 'Q was an infamous field agent at another organization before he came to MI6 but no one at MI6 knows. James is falling in love with Q but thinks that Q belongs with someone normal. When the other organization comes to work at MI6 to work together to stop Moriarity & Moran the newcomers all start flirting with Q who is famous for incredible sex. Cue 007's jealousy & fury as he joins the race to woo & win Q's heart! & surprise at Q's mutual feelings! :)' I changed some bits, but I hope you like it all the same!
> 
> First time I've written 00Q 1st person POV! Ain't that exciting?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

How do you know when you deserve to be loved?

It is a question which is so warped within one’s mind that it becomes something of a drug. _I am not deserving of love_ is a thought which skims through my mind every moment of every day.

I know that my thoughts are irrational. But just because they are irrational doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t have _strength,_ and it’s their strength that is so hard to get over.

Whenever he walks into a room, my heart leaps. His smile, the crease just under his ice blue eyes, the way he makes another ridiculous reason why he’s returned my equipment back in _more than one piece_ are like music to the feelings in my heart.

But my mind is logical, and it knows that James Bond is out of my league. Not for the normal reasons, the ones that the other members of Q branch quote (too rugged, too old, too dangerous, too sheer bloody minded), but because James deserves someone better than me. It’s not fair to try and reciprocate the flirting that he gives, it’s not fair on him to wink surreptitiously whenever he catches my eye. 

My past, before MI6, stops that. He can’t know my _true_ self, the one that has broken hearts and bones for the pursuit of information about Moriarty. He can’t know that the _reason_ I came to Mi6 was to escape that world, to try and carve a life for myself that didn’t necessarily require me to take the lives of others.

Sometimes, I worry James would think the true me a coward. After all, he has been in the field for years, he would surely _understand_ the reasons why I had to quit.

But he still does it. He still goes out for Queen and Country, he still breaks bones and hearts for information that he needs to get. He is _far_ braver than I ever could be.

He wouldn’t want me.

He can’t love me.

But like all good plans, this one came undone. Some people would say it was a _blast from the past,_ but even since M had talked to me about how damn important it was for our two organisations to work together, I knew I couldn’t keep the pretence up. It only took my old life to come barrelling back in the form of Agents Legatt and Brown for James to pick up on the missing gaps in sentences that I left unsaid and the jokes that I didn’t laugh at.

It was the banter, he later told me, that made him work it out. It was the same banter that the 00s had between themselves, the dark and twisted kind that helped them keep their sanity and souls in their murderous line of work.

I suppose you want to know what happened don’t you? After James worked it all out?

I thought he was going to stop the flirting and put our relationship (or whatever it was) back to purely business. It would have been easier that way, he wouldn’t have to _try_ to get past the years of defences I’ve put up for my own safety.

Yet instead he asked me out on a date.

James Bond asked _me,_ Q, on a _date._

You know what I said?

I said yes.


	59. Unexpected Parenthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turned out that Q was actually someone's father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fill for klaine43 who prompted - 'Q gets custody of a baby (fathered/relative died). Bond steps in to help him + mi6 help as well. 00 babysitters [00 presents?]. 007 and Q fall in love and become a family and fathers together'. I have taken a bit of liberty with this, hope you like it anyway!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

"You know that ex that I went out with a few years ago?" Q said tentatively. James looked up from his phone to see Q as white as a sheet holding his phone like it was a hot coal.

 "Blonde?" James asked. It had been before James had started dating Q, and James wasn't really in a position to judge Q's past dating habits.

 "You know I said she had a kid with the guy she went out with after me?" Q stuttered.

 James didn't like where this was going.

 "Uh huh," James said.

 "The kid wasn't his," Q said.

 "Does that mean-"

 "Yeh," Q replied. The word 'father' hung in the air between them. Q looked like he was about to faint.

 "Shit," James said, standing up and wrapping his arms around Q, "you going to be okay?"

 "I need a drink," Q slumped into James' arms.

 "I'll get you one," James said, "then we can work out what to do."

 

X-x-x

 

The child was a daughter, and her name was Delphina.

 The first meeting Q had with his daughter had been in a public restaurant. James hadn't gone (he had scoped it out and hid on a rooftop watching through binos just _incase_ it was a trap by some enemy of mi6 to get their esteemed quatermaster out into the open.

 It wasnt,however. Delphina was a bonny young girl of about 3 who had bright blonde hair that was pulled back in a perfect red bow. She had Q's stature, a slim little thing for a toddler who danced around the table legs totally obvious to the frosty conversation between Q and his ex above her head.

Q later told him that his ex had broken up with her last boyfriend as part of a messy custody battle where it turned out that Daphnia hadn't been his daughter. Q had offered to help support Delphina, and by all accounts his ex had left their meeting far more relaxed than when she had arrived.

 By all accounts the most recent boyfriend had been a bit of an arsehole.  That evening Q sent an anonymous hack to the man's computer with a pile of adult ads.

 "You seem to be taking yhis dad thing rather well," James said.

 "Felicity had said that Delphina kept messing up their computers at home," Q smiled proudly.

 "Like her father then," James chuckled, "how old were you when you hacked into the Bank of England?"

 "12," Q replied, "I sent a pile of stuffed teddies to the manager's office."

 "No money?" James was almost impressed.

 "Only to cover the teddies," Q said, "and a new laptop for me."

 

X-x-x

 

Delphina was a princess when she turned up with Felicity for what Q would later call his 'first proper meeting' with Delphina. It had taken a few months of planning to set it up,  and for Felicity to trust Q with their daughter for a few hours.

 Delphina wore a bright pink dress, complete with tiara and Cape,  and was waving a wand about roughly in a good impression of Q when he was trying to cook.

 "HELLO!" Delphina said brightly, continuing to wave her wand.

 "Be good Delphie," Felicity said, crouching down and straightening up her daughters tiara.

 "Promise," she said, scrunching up her nose as she turned towards Q. James had partially hidden himself behind the door, waiting for Q to introduce him to his daughter.

 "Delphie," Q said, gesturing to James to step forward, "I want you to meet James."

 James crouched down next to Q and held out his hand towards the small toddler. Even though he spent most of his time battling various terrorist organisations, the look on Delphina ' face was something that struck terror into his heart.

 "HELLO," Delphina shouted excitedly, before totally ignoring James' outstretched hand and catapulting herself towards James to give him a hug.

 James looked towards Q with a look of desperation. Q smiled broadly, and even Felicity cracked a smile. They had been introduced the previous month, and James found himself warming to the other woman. From what he had gathered from Q, their break up had been as amicable as break ups could go.

 "I'll leave here in your capable hands," Felicity said, "phone me if there is a problem."

 "Thanks," Q replied, as he prised Delphina off James, "hope your date goes well."

 Felicity made a face that James recognised well. By all accounts on expression alone Felicity didn't have high hopes for this date.

 "Plenty of fish in the sea and all that," she shrugged, "see you later, Delphie."

 "Bye Mama," Delphina said, waving her wand in farewell. If James reactions hadn't been fast enough, the wand would have taken out his eye.

 As soon as Felicity had turned down the end of the road, Delphina turned around to Q.

 "Do you have ice cream?" she asked, beaming up at her father.

 "Lots," Q replied, unable to help the smile that came over his face.

Maybe parenthood wasn't so bad after all, however unexpected it might have been.


	60. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red was more than a colour, it was an emotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to the mi6_cafe Spectre prompt fest prompt 'red'.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Red was the colour of lust.

It was the colour of wandering hands and desperate kisses. Of late nights and even later mornings.

However, that was just a sharp red. A brilliant red.

A deeper red might be the bubbling love that runs underneath the lust that drives a lover’s heart towards their other. It is not as bright, but in someways it is more powerful than the brilliant red because it has depth to it. It has the deep ringing notes of a laugh, or a warming embrace at the end of a long day.

A lighter red, not brighter but lighter red, would be the small smiles over breakfast. It would be the gentle rays of sunlight that cascade on top of entwined limbs. It would be the gentler pinker hues, the small talk at the dinner table, the quiet comfort of a listening ear.

This moment, however, was nothing like that. If Q were to try and describe it, he would fail because there simply was _no words_ that could try and describe it. No metaphor came close, no simile could suffice. You couldn’t say this moment was _like_ another because it was unique, perfectly and brilliantly unique.

It was the red of the cascades of space, the dust clouds that roar across lightyears, so powerful and yet so graceful. It was the red of the blood that pounded through Q’s veins as he watched James slip the ring onto his finger.

It was the moment he said ‘I do’.


	61. Cold Remedies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James still visits his favourite coffee shop, even when he has a cold. It's all because of a certain barista named Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For nothingtoseeherejustmovealong who prompted me: 'so how about a fluffy sick-fic, mild hurt/comfort. One of the boys is sick and the other takes care of him. Either one could be sick. This could be established relationship or first non-professional interaction. Hell, you could even make it 'alternate first meeting' where one sees the other in the store too sick to even pick out cold meds and follows him home to take care of him. Just something sweet and fluffy.' Hope you like this, I kind of took the AU idea and ran away with it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

There was the guy at the coffee shop that James quite liked.

And by quite liked, he obviously mean that he quite liked him _a lot._

What ‘a lot’ meant would vary depending on the person. To James, it meant that he would always visit the coffee shop, and order the same cup of coffee, and sit in the same seat at the same window in the coffee shop, for the same amount of time each day, in order to make polite small talk with the particular barista who James quite liked _a lot._

This barista? This barista was the kind of person whose smile spoke of sunshine, whilst their eyes spoke of the wisdom of age.

The barista’s name in this story was Quentin, although James always called him Q.

(However, that encounter is for another time, as it involves three cups of coffee, one night out, and a rather bemused drunken morning that neither of them spoke about afterwards because it was rather awkward.)

James liked this regular pattern, with the regular chat, and the regular feeling of lovesickness that could only come from having a crush on someone else. He liked this pattern so much that on the day where he felt like complete rubbish, he still turned up at his regular table at his regular time and sat at his regular chair and ordered his regular coffee.

The sneezing, luckily, was only for the duration of his cold.

“You should be at home,” Q said, as he delivered James’ coffee. He also slid a packet of cold and flu tablets across the table before sitting down opposite James.

James looked at the tablets with distain. He hated drugs, his immune system was stronger than that.

“Have them,” Q said, nudging the tablets over towards James, “you look like hell reincarnated.”

James sniffed, feeling a tickle at the end of his nose. He was just able to bring up his handkerchief in time to catch his sneeze.

“Is that your attempt at a chat up line?” James said, blowing his nose, “and aren’t you supposed to be waiting the tables or doing whatever barista’s do these days? Write on paper mugs?”

Q raised his eyebrow.

“If you want a chat up line,” Q asked, “how about this. Take the goddam drugs, and then once you’re better we go for dinner?”

James couldn’t stop his smile. Q had a way of making him do that more often than not.

“On me,” he replied, “after all, I’ll owe you for the cold and flu tablets.”


	62. I've got this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q has a crisis at work and James tries to help him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Castillon who prompted: One of the young Q Branch techs or hackers that Q mentors is in some kind of trouble. How does Q help him? Does he enlist Bond, or is Bond left on the comforting-after-it-happens end of things?
> 
> Written as part of Mi6 Cafe's January Challenge (what can you write in 15 minutes!).

There was trouble, and then there was **_trouble_** _._

Sadly for Keyla, one of the Q branch techs, she had managed to get herself into the latter kind, bold italicised and underlined kind of trouble. The kind of trouble which had led to Q sitting at his laptop with the other Q branch techs, swearing violently.

The kind of trouble that did _not_ need the involvement of James Bond.

“I heard one of your tecs got themselves into a spot of bother,” James said as he strolled into the Branch, picking his way through the mess of cables where Marvin, one of Q’s seconds, had strapped together a larger super computer that was currently trying to hack into one of the most sophisticated security systems that Q branch had seen used by a company.

“It’s under control,” Q said, tersely. He did not need this distraction right now. Kelya looked mildly mortified that James Bond of all people was investigating her mistake.

“Really?” James asked. Q glared at him, before glancing towards Kelya’s terrified face.

“He doesn’t mean any harm,” Q said.

“Does M know?” James asked.

“ _No,”_ Q replied, “and it’s going to stay that way. Now unless you have something helpful to add?”

James sat down heavily on the desk which was currently strewn with abandoned paperwork. It had been that paperwork that Kelya had been tracking down, piecing together a puzzle that would allow her program to sit silently in the back of one of Trevaston’s computer’s and just record the flow of data.

The problem had been when the programme had been _attacked_ by another programme. And Keyla being Kelya, had programmed a subroutine into her harmless data collection programme that was currently doing the electronical equivalent of giving James Bond a machine gun and pointing him in direction of a warehouse that needed clearing out of enemy targets.

“Do they know?” James asked.

“Yes of _course,”_ Q replied, huffing as he typed away on his computers. Marvin was setting up the final parts of the supercomputer that would start hacking at the outside of the computer network to try and provide enough noise that no one would notice Keyla’s little entrance route through a few backdoors in their security.

Q continued to tap away on his computer, ignoring James totally.

“We’re online,” Marvin said.

“Excellent,” Q replied, without looking up from his laptop. His fingers darted across the keyboard, opening programs and setting off software that he had reserved for a moment like this. They needed to throw _everything_ at this server.

“Right, Keyla,” Q said, as he started off the final hack that would start chipping away at the outer wall of Trevaston’s firewall. He was routeing the signal all over the world, using a few tricks from his hacker days that were most likely illegal.

“All over to you, Keyla,” Q replied. Kelya nodded, face white, as she attacked her own laptop with vigour and fury. She had written the neutralizing programme that afternoon when she had realised what had happened, a feat that Q was quietly impressed about.

“Can I help?” James asked.

Q forced himself not to roll his eyes at the agent.

“Just go make tea or something,” Q said, waiving his hand. He didn’t have mental space for James’ banter right now. This was _serious,_ if Keyla couldn’t neutralise her programme then she could be directly threatened by Trevaston when they realised whose electronic fingerprints lay over the programme code.

Q didn’t even hear James leave, he was so absorbed in his work. He didn’t even hear James come back 10 minutes, but he did hear the quiet tinker of a mug being placed next to his laptop, full of delightful earl grey.

“Thank you,” he whispered up at James. James smiled.

 _You’ve got this,_ the smile said.

 _I’ve got this,_ Q thought.


	63. Honeytrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q has to go into the club to get the target. What's worse is that he has to wear a suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kelli who prompted 'some good ol' 00Q action canon-wise - explosions, snark, AND A HONEYPOT MISSION WITH Q'. I kind of loved the idea of a honeypot mission and ran with it? Hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“I don’t see why _you_ can’t do this,” Q muttered into his microphone, “you’re the one who is highly trained.”

“You look better in a suit,” James’ reply came through Q’s earpiece, “she’s the woman in the left hand booth.”

Q knew who James was talking about before he had finished his sentence. The woman in question was Leila Neals, the notorious gang boss who had been currently terrorising most of the South London, kicking up trouble with known troublemakers, setting them up against each other and watching the show remotely from her base in her Penthouse London flat.

James had managed to get so far, but Leila was better than most. A few select threats to Mi6 had meant that even the 00s couldn’t get involved, if they did she would pull a few strings she had on the international level to get a couple of major incidents underway. It was a case of _touch me and things get worse._

Q hadn’t really wanted to volunteer for this mission, but it was a case of snaring Leila and collecting enough evidence to hand over to the authorities. And the snaring part of the mission involved finding someone who fit Leila’ very specific definition of ‘hot male’.

Sadly, that definition included someone of the size and looks of Q.

So Q was the one moving through the busy club, with the music pounding in his ears, trying to weave his way towards Leila. He could easily pick out her guards who were dotted around the bar, he might not be _trained_ but he had looked over 007’s shoulder virtually on enough missions to know the traits to look for. They were the men and women who weren’t _quite_ swaying in time to the music, or the ones who swilled their drink too few times before taking only a sip. One did not just _sip_ a martini. One _enjoyed_ a martini, but there was a distinct difference

“You’re nearing her,” James voice whispered in his ear, “I’m round the back. Try and lead her out by herself.”

“Not exactly a high demand,” Q muttered, as he rounded the end of the bar and swiped a glass from an unsuspecting guest who was in deep conversation with another lady. Q might be a techie at heart but he knew a few things about taking things that didn’t belong to him. It was how he had managed to get enough parts to build his first computer.

The suit he worse felt strange on his shoulders, and tight at the waist. He craved the comfort of his jumper and looser trousers, this clothing made him feel more like a penguin than a human.

“Here goes nothing,” Q muttered, as he strode up to Leila’s booth with a purposeful step. James hadn’t had much time to coach Q in the ‘ways of making people do what you want them to do’, but Q had impersonated enough people online to know how to get want he wanted from someone.

It was just harder in person. Here, there was no screen to protect him. He was really out of his depth on this one.

“May I join you?” Q asked Leila pointedly. The two guards in the booths next to Leila turned just slightly to try and assess Q out of the corner of their eyes.

This was Leila’s one weakness, her desire for men. Specifically, when she came out to drink and hook up, she didn’t any of her potential evening entertainment to scarper at the sight of her guards.

Leila looked up from her drink, a smile slowly appearing across her deep purple lips. She wore her black hair in a severe bob that cut around her face and a heavy fringe that hung low across her eyes. However, Q could still see the eyes looking at him, green eyes that were devour every inch of his figure.

“You may,” she purred, shuffling over in the booth. Q put his drink down and shuffled into the booth, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Get her interested and then I’ll call,” James whispered into Q’s earpiece, “we need you to get her outside in as short at time as possible.”

“What’s your name then?” Leila remarked, sipping her drink as she drank in Q under her lashes.

Q fought the urge to squirm under her gaze.

 _You can do this,_ Q thought to himself.

“Mike,” Q replied, “and yours?”

“Lisa,” Leila replied with a smile, “now Mike, what brings you over here? You must know that there are easier women to pick up in this bar?”

“You were alone,” Q replied, trying to put on as much cool into his voice as he would normally hear from James when he was chatting up women, “no women should ever be alone.”

“And yourself,” Leila nodded to the ring on Q’s finger. He had purposefully left his wedding ring on at James’ insistence, Leila was notorious for hooking up with married men. Regardless, Q would have worn it anyway. It allowed him to be closer to James, even if just symbolically.

“What can I say,” Q replied with a smile, “she thinks that I’m staying late at work.”

Leila’s smile became almost predatory now.

 _I’ve got her,_ Q thought.

“Ring her now,” Leila said, “tell her that you’ll be staying with a friend tonight.”

Q shook his head, “Her mother in law is coming over tonight. I have to be home or she’ll know.”

“So you come to a bar,” Leila said, “hook up with a lost lonely woman, and then leave her on tenderhooks?”

“Not tenderhooks,” Q replied, “my car is out back. Leather seats.”

Leila grinned. Q also noticed that she had spread her legs very suggestively at Q.

 _I am going to need some strong drinks after this,_ Q thought to himself. Even chatting up some other woman when he was married to James made him sick to the stomach. He knew that James would do it as part of his job, and he was fine with that. But when _he_ was doing it? God, it made him feel sick.

“Come with me,” Q said, holding his hand out to Leila. Leila took it, gripping tightly as if she now had possession over Q.

“I won’t be long, boys,” Leila called over her shoulder to the guard in the next booth. For a criminal mastermind, she was surprisingly lax about her security protocol when men were involved.

 _The promise of sex can make people do strange things,_ Q thought to himself.

“I’m in position,” James’ voice whispered in Q’s ear. Q felt his heartbeat calm at the sound of James’ voice, this wasn’t for long and soon he would be able to drop the façade, go home, and have a bloody long shower followed by a bottle of wine.

Q led Leila though the pulsating crowd. Somehow Leila managed to draw closer to Q, practically pressing herself against him. Q walked faster, hoping that Leila would assume it to be desperation to get her to the car, as opposed to the desperation to get away from Leila. These kind of situations were the reason that he hated nightclubs to the depths of his soul, for him sharing your body with someone was something that was _special._ Not that it mattered what other people did, it was just the way Q wanted to live.

Q pulled Leila through the remaining crowd and out to the door of the club. The came out to London at night, with all the activity and noise that would come with any city at night. Up above, the stars twinkled through the light pollution, giving Q some comfort. He always found looking up at the universe comforting.

“It’s round here,” Q said, pulling Leila toward one of the roads which led off the street.

“Illegally parked too?” Leila whispered, “love it.”

“Nothing like a bit of illegality to heighten the mood,” Q remarked, probably too snarky. However, Leila was lost in her own world, sated by the fact that she was about to add another notch to her bedpost. She didn’t notice.

“Keep bringing her down to the car,” James’ voice whispered in Q’s ear, “then I’ll make call.”

Q continued to lead Leila down the pavement, towards where James had parked his Aston. James himself was lurking on a rooftop with a dartgun, aiming to take Leila out about 3 feet from the Aston.

“Is that yours?” Leila said, sliding her arm around Q’s waist, lips close to his ear.

“Yes,” Q replied, “ever had sex in an expensive car before?”

“Not an Aston,” Leila replied, “always a first time. But to be honest I would rather be pressed up against the car, with you giving me some rather extravagant kisses with those gorgeous lips of yours.”

 _I’m going to need two bottles of wine when I get home,_ Q thought to himself, _and a vodka or two._

Q led Leila towards the car, trying to line her up with the mark that James had pointed out for Q earlier.

“I’ve got the mark,” James whispered in his ear, “making the call now.”

Q’s phone rang in his pocket. The distraction was enough for Leila to pull herself away from Q, untangling her arms from his.

“The wife?” she asked, “you going to answer it?”

Before Q could respond, a dart appeared in her neck. Leila looked confused, her hand going up to touch her neck, eyes widening at the realisation of what had just happened. Then, the drug took effect, making her stumble forwards where Q was just about able to catch her before she hit the floor.

“Nice shot,” Q said into the earpiece.

“Thanks,” James said, “and well done Q, you did good.”

“I need a long shower, and alcohol,” Q replied, “now get down here and help me with her. I want to get away before someone notices. I’ve done enough agent work for one day.”

“You’ll be so good at it,” James replied.

“I prefer a computer,” Q replied, “more predictable than people. Plus it means I get to wear my jumper.”


	64. It starts in a coffee shop (as it always does)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James had three reasons why he always frequented this coffee shop.
> 
> (James is a hot shot lawyer. Q is the barista at the coffee shop. It's a love story waiting to happen.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get back into writing 00q! Hope you like this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this was written for fun and not for profit.

James had three reasons why he always frequented this coffee shop.

Firstly, it was the coffee. He was obsessed with the stuff, especially their americano. He wasn’t sure _what_ it was that the barista did differently to this coffee but it made this coffee worth the extortionate £5 that he spent on it.

Secondly, it was the location. The cafe was situated right outside of Oxford Circus station, which was great because James had to make a special diversion to come and get his coffee here. There weren’t many law firms which had their HQ in this part of the city.

Thirdly, it was the kind-of-cute-okay-very-cute barista who would always serve James whenever he went in to get his coffee.

“Morning, Q,” James said, leaning on the counter as Q smiled at him. Q was a couple of years younger than James, although he had young features which made him look like the age gap between them would actually be greater. When coupled with Q’s messy hair and glasses, he looked like he was in his mid twenties.

“Morning, James,” Q replied, “the usual?”

“Yes please,” James said, “although to drink in today.”

Q raised an eyebrow.

“My hearing isn’t until the afternoon,” James said, kicking his suitcase of files next to him, “this bad boy isn’t getting looked at until at least after 9am.”

“Fair enough,” Q replied, as he pulled a china cup from the stand and began to make James’ coffee, “although I thought all you lawyers worked long hours.”

James smiled. A common misconception.

“We do,” he replied, “but after everyone else has gone to sleep.”

“What time did you finish last night?”

“3am,”

Q looked over his shoulder at James and grimaced.

“Are you sure you don’t want another shot of espresso in your coffee?” he asked, as he put the full cup of coffee on the saucer, and placed it on the counter.

“No, I’ll be fine thank you,” James replied, digging out his wallet

“Three pounds,” Q said, as he typed the order into the computer. James tapped his wallet on the screen, and picked up his coffee with his free hand.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Sighing, James put the coffee down and took his phone out of his pocket.

_Get your arse to the office we have a problem with the Spectre case._

It was from Eve, who knowing her wouldn’t have left all evening. So was the life of the Junior Partners.

“Problem at the office?” Q asked.

“Yep,” James replied, “can you make it a take out?”

Q swiped up the coffee and swiftly put it into a cup James could take with him.

“Next time a drink in?” Q replied. There was a tone of hopefulness in his voice.

“I’ll do my best,” James replied, swiping up the coffee and giving Q a quick smile.

“Hope the case goes well!” Q called after James as he walked towards the door.

“Thank you!” James replied, as he pressed speed dial on Eve’s number, opening the door with his elbow and balancing the coffee cup on top of his suitcase handle.

“How big of a problem do we have?” James asked as Eve picked up the phone.

“Fucking huge,” she replied, “hope your hot barista was looking good, you’re going to need your happy memories to get through today.”

James glanced back through the window of the coffee shop at Q.

 _I suppose he is kind of hot,_ James thought, _maybe one day I might be able to stay a bit longer and chat to him._

_Maybe one day I’ll be able to ask him out._

_"_ I'll be there in ten," he said to Eve, as he dashed for the tube with the thought of Q lingering on his mind.

 


	65. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q mourned for James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Mi6 Cafe's Monthly Challenge with this month is "O'Death". 
> 
> Warnings: Very angsty, Death, Grief

Q pressed his body into the wall behind him as the sobs overwhelmed him. It was cold, so cold in his flat. The heating had been temperamental over the past week, and it was something that Q _could_ have fixed.

But if had, the room would be warm. And if the room was warm, it would be too easy to forget the pain in his chest.

Q shivered involuntarily, stiff fingers clutching James’ jacket in his hands. It had supposed to be a simple op, a simple mission.

 _Oh why,_ Q thought, as he sobbed into the jacket. It wasn’t fair, it _so_ wasn’t fair, there had been so many plans in the future they had wanted to see, to do, to _enjoy._

All gone, in one heartbeat.

With one bullet.

 There was a rational part of Q’s mind that said the world would be okay again. That life went on.

But for now? It look too hard. For now he wanted to grieve his pain away.

For he had lost his lover, his friend, and his companion.

James was gone.

Forever.


	66. Hubris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubris - (noun) excessive pride or self-confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I opened my inbox for one word prompts, and I got this gorgeous one from letseatthestars <3

People said that there was nothing egotistical about love.

They were the kind of people who said that love was all about selflessness. It was all about _giving_ to someone, that one person, so completely, that you became almost fused with their very soul.

James disagreed.

Of course, to love someone, you needed to be empathetic. You needed to love beyond flaws, you needed to love beyond anger, you needed to understand that there was no such thing as a _side_ to choose.

But you needed to know yourself that you were capable of loving. And that you were capable of being loved. And that meant you had to be able to look yourself in the mirror, into your eyes, and stare into your very soul with the knowledge that you were a good person. That you were a _decent_ person, that you were a person who was as human as the next. That you were as flawed but as beautiful as the person you loved.

James had thought he had known love. He had thought that being able to woo a woman or man to bed was evidence of love. It was evidence of being _worthy_ of love. It was evidence of strength, of power, of confidence.

James had known two times when had fallen in love, _properly_ fell in love. The first was Vesper, whose love burnt as bright as a fire, and burnt him just as much. It was a raw love, a violent, heartaching love, that left a mark on James that he would carry with him until his dying day.

His love for Q was different. It was as a quiet, steady warming love. It was the sunrays after a rainstorm, the warms of a home when you step in from the outside. It was the love that had taught James about humility and humanity. It was the love that had healed his burnt soul and made him look into his own eyes with a sense of pride.

But now the pride was not egotistical. No, this pride was of strength. It was the pride James felt in himself when worked _with_ Q instead of against him. When they were together, as a partnership.

After all, when you dedicate your life to someone, you make a choice. You’re with them until the end of the road. That means you choose _them_ over the rest of the world, with all their flaws and all their beauty.

And to do that takes humility.


	67. Physique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James felt the weight of his age like a millstone around his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kelli who prompted me "Physique" and then I went a bit angsty. Hope you like it!
> 
> Set during _Skyfall_.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

James threw back another shot of vodka and let the burning sensation bring him back to life.

Christ he felt tired. Once there would have been a time when he would have started the drinking earlier. Now, the noise of the bar barely entered his mind, it was only the alcohol which was worth staying awake for.

He felt _old._

He could feel the age of his muscles pulling down towards the ground. It made him slower, made him weaker. His mind wanted him to move faster, but his limbs could not respond. They were decaying, slowly, as all humans did.

“Another,” he said to the barman, nodding at his glass. The bar was heaving with people, most of them were huddled around a group who were partaking in a rather dangerous drinking game involving balancing a scorpion on their hand whilst drinking a dirty pint.

 _Maybe later,_ James thought. He needed more alcohol before he could consider something that stupid.


	68. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A frustrated Q visits James in the medical wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Castillon who prompted me "dick" for my 00Q one-word prompts! Hope you like this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“You’re a complete dick, you know that?” Q said, sitting down heavily on the chair and throwing some flowers onto James’ lap.

James grinned up from his hospital bed, like a puppy who had just brought back a ball.

“Nothing!” Q said, his frustration bubbling to the surface, “not one word, _nothing,_ until we get 008 to haul your sorry arse back here to get medical attention.”

James frowned.

 _Finally he understands,_ Q thought. He was _really_ pissed.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” James said. He almost sounded meek. Almost.

“Not worry?” Q tried not to shout, or he would be thrown out of the med bay _again._

“Yeh,” James replied.

“What did you expect me to do?” Q thought, “I thought you were dead you fucking idiot.”

“Look I couldn’t make contact, not with the remains of Liveara still following me,” James tried to throw his hands up in despair, but the gesture lost some of its impact due to the fact his left arm was in a cast.

“You managed to make contact with 008,”

“She made contact with me first,” James said, “and I wonder who told her I was in trouble?”

Q squirmed in his seat. 008 had owed him a fuck-off huge favour. He had called it in.

“I’m sorry,” James said, reaching out which his bandaged right arm to squeeze Q’s hand tightly “I should have called you. I’m just not used to-”

“-People worrying, I know,” Q sighed. He knew what he was getting in for when he had started dating James Bond. It wasn’t going to be a normal relationship, with normal relationship problems. It was going to be tested, it was going to be hard, and it was going to take everything from them both to make it work.

He squeezed James’ hand back.

“Just please tell me next time,” Q said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on James’ lips, “please.”

“I will try and make sure there _isn’t_ a next time,” James chuckled, “this arm _hurts_.”

“Don’t be a wuss,” Q reprimanded him, smiling.

“As a 00 Agent, I can officially confirm that I am _not_ a “wuss”,” James replied.


	69. Possible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wonder,” Q said, “if in all that space, in all that vastness, whether anything is possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Aniorro, who prompted me "stargazing" for my 00Q one-word prompts! Hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Q sat on the observation deck and stared up at the universe which unfurled above him.

They were new stars, not constellations that Q recognised by eye. It was one of the perks of their ship, the _MI – 6,_ being an explorer vessel. It meant that Q got to drink up a new part of the universe with every mission they went on.

It was cold, up here. The rest of the crew would be asleep, apart from Eve who was taking the night shift in the drive room. They were a small enough vessel to know each of the crew by name, but large enough to have sufficient equipment to sustain them for months without having to go back to _ME – 1_ for supplies.

 _Somewhere out there,_ Q thought, _is Earth._

The fabled Earth, lost so many generations ago. It was the primary mission of every explorer class vessel to try and find the coordinates of the planet that humanity had once called home. Regardless of the time differences, or even if the planet still existed, it was important to find one’s roots. And humanity wanted to find it’s home.

“Mind if I join you?”

James’ voice broke through the silence, startling Q. He strained his neck to see James climb out of the hatch that led into the main ship, ducking his head against the transparent dome that curved above the ship, allowing the crew to gain a full 360 degree view of the universe.

“Sure,” Q replied. Relationships weren’t encouraged, especially on such a small vessel as _MI-6._ Their genes would be required back in _MI-1_ , as part of the DNA lottery that the genetics labs would create. Only once you had donated DNA could you be in an official “relationship”, which would allow you couples’ quarters and the ability to adopt one of the Ship-born children who would be grown in the genetics labs.

James scooted over next to Q, laying down mere inches from him. Q smiled, he could feel the heat radiating off James’ fleet-issue uniform.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Q sighed, staring up at the stars. Up here, Q felt all of his problems and worries melt away. After all, when you lay in front of something as magnificent as the unfolding universe, you _had_ to lie back in awe.

“That’s true,” James said. His voice was comforting, like a warm blanket. It made Q smile broadly.

“I wonder,” Q said, “if in all that space, in all that _vastness,_ whether anything is possible.”

“Anything?”

“You know,” Q said, looking over at James, “the theory that states every reality of every decision is played out. The one that states _nothing_ is impossible.”

“I know the one,” James said. Q felt a shudder of shock run through him as he felt James’ hand reach over and gently lay over his own.

James smiled at him.

“Anything is possible, right?” James asked.

Q moved his hand so he could lace his fingers between James’.

“Anything,” he replied.


	70. Bubbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q finds a kitten. James does not approve of his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Boredpsycopath-jc who prompted "bubbles" for my 00Q one-word prompts! Hope you like this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

“We cannot call it _Bubbles,_ ” James said, looking at the kitten like it was a nuclear device. If he was honest, he would _rather_ it was a nuclear device. At least he knew what to do with one of those.

“Have you got any better ideas?” Q said, holding the kitten in his arms and petting it gently. He looked so fatherly, James was tempted to take a picture and send it to Eve. At least then someone would share his pain of having to share his space with a _cat._

 _Let’s be honest,_ James thought, _Eve would be round here within a matter of seconds. I won’t get any support from her._

“Can’t we take it to a shelter?” James asked.

Q gave him the same glare that James would get whenever he brought back equipment in more than one, less functioning, piece.

“Okay, so we can’t do that,” James said, “that does not mean it has to be called _Bubbles_.”

The kitten meowed.

“It _likes it_ ,” Q said, purring at the kitten affectionately, before holding it up to James.

Bubbles meowed.

“It’s still a stupid name,” James said, taking the kitten off Q. The creature squirmed in his grip, before deftly leaping from his hands to his shoulder, and wrapping itself around his neck.

“Bubbles _likes_ you,” Q said.

James looked up at the kitten, which had now decided to perch ontop of his shoulder, placing its front paws on the top of James’ head to survey his surroundings.

“That he might do,” James said, “but we are taking him to the vet first. And we are _not_ telling them his name is Bubbles.”


	71. For the love of Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is a pirate in Queen M's armada when he get's detailed to work with another, young looking Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Castillon whose comment on one of my throwaway posts gave me the idea for this!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

The worst thing about being a pirate, in James’ opinion, was there was never enough gold to buy enough whiskey.

For sure, he had a boat. She was currently moored up in the harbour with watchful guards ensuing she didn’t get taken by the other arseholes who carried themselves as Captains. The _Temeraine_ was the fastest and strongest ship in M’s fleet. She was the reason that James could wear the second in command rank on his shoulders. There was a reason he was feared.

“Shame, isn’t it?”

James growled at the young man who slid next to him on the bench, setting down a pitcher of ale. Long arms poked out the end of his heavy coat which seemed too large for his slender frame, long fingers curing around his drink.

“And you are?” James said, taking a swig of his whiskey.

 _No more,_ James thought, setting down his empty glass on the table heavily. He would have to blow up a few of the East India Company’s ships to get enough gold to buy him another. The whiskey was expensive, but running a ship was more so.

“Have you heard of what has happened to the _Green Lady?_ ” the man asked, peering at James under his ruffled hair, “grand old warship, being ignominiously hauled away for scrap.”

James huffed.

“The inevitability of time don’t you think?” the man said, taking a swig of his drink, “what do you think?”

The man’s stare was piercing, almost unsettling. There was a calculating mind behind the boyish looks, and it made James uneasy.

“Excuse me,” James said, making a move to get up.

“007,” the man said.

James froze.

 _Oh you have to be kidding me, M,_ James thought. There was only one person who would know that codename.

“I’m your new Quatermaster,” the man said, knocking back the remainder of his drink.

James sat down, and looked the man up and down. There was _no way in hell_ M had chosen this _youngling_ to be James’ second in command. He knew that M would delegate a new Captain to work with him in disrupting the East India Company’s trading routes, but not, well, _this._

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said.

“Why?” the man, his new _Quartermaster,_ said, “because I’m not blazen enough to wear my captain’s coat around the town?”

“Because you still have spots,” James remarked.

The Quartermaster frowned.

“My complex is hardly relevant,” he remarked.

“Your competence is,”

“Age is no guarantee of efficiency,” the Quartermaster said.

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation,”

“I hazard I could do more damage with my _Aston_ than you ever could in ten years with your _Temeraine,_ ”

James resisted breaking his glass over the youth’s head. The last thing he needed was a bar fight.

“So why does M need me?” James remarked. He could feel the anger creeping up the back of his neck.

“Sometimes a trigger needs to be pulled,” the Quatermaster said, pulling out a gun out of his jacket and handing the butt to James.

James looked at the gun, plucking it from the Quartermaster’s hand. It was the standard flintlock pistol that M gave all of her trusted captains. James could even see the delicate _M_ that was engraved on the barrel of the gun.

“Or not pulled,” James said, handing the gun back to the Quartermaster, “it’s hard to know the difference if you’re not in the thick of it. The _Aston_ isn’t designed for close combat.”

“Which is why M thought we would be well suited,” the Quartermaster said, taking his pistol back and tucking it inside his coat.

“What’s you’re codename then?” James said, “as you know mine?”

“ _Q_ ,” Q replied, holding out his hand to James.

 _Maybe I should trust M on this one,_ James thought, _if she trusts him, then I can trust him too._

“007,” he replied, shaking Q’s hand tightly. James hoped that this Quartermaster would be better than the previous. After all, he did want to buy some more of that decent whiskey.


	72. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James chose Q. And Q chose James. It was that choice that allowed them to fight for their love in a world which tried to rip them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small drabble, to get back into the 00Q world!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit.

Time.

It is not something that stands still, it constantly moves _forward._ It is something that has confused physicists and mathematicians alike for millennia.

Time puts an end point on things. It says, _now is the time to move on._

Time, in a fashion, tries to dictate the world by its endings. It is only through choice that one can stay with their friends, their parents, their lovers.

James did not speak to his parents. It was not his choice. They were dead.

His friends, he tried to keep in contact. He wasn’t very good at it, but he did _try_. Eve knew that, Madeleine knew that, even Bill knew that.

His lovers, well, they always ended either by his choice or theirs. Sometimes he thought death trailed him like a shadow, waiting to just _end_ something he held precious. Other times, he thought he was cursed, as he watched the women and men he loved walk away from him. It was his life, the danger, the worry, that they could not take.

But with Q, James chose to stay, chose to protect him from death. And Q, in return, chose to stay despite the signs, despite the logic that screamed danger.

Time is not something that stands still, it constantly tries to rip apart and mould the universe into something new. But a person’s choice is stronger than time itself, and that is what makes it all the more powerful.


	73. Infinite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q looks out at the void between space and time, and sees every infinite universe where he and James fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long time, I have decided to re-visit my starlighter universe!
> 
> This is in the same universe as  
> [Starlight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1777789), [Sunrise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1812595), [Eon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/1832206), [Lightstars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/2052775), [To Be a God](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/4339797), [New Year](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/6819026), and   
> [Fundamental Forces](http://archiveofourown.org/works/906930/chapters/8949325)

The universe is, and always has been vast.

There cannot be a word to describe how vast it is, because to do so would be to define it. And the universe is infinite, beyond all comprehension, full of wonder, life and majesty that no sentient being could possibly comprehend.

Q floats, at that very moment, in the void between space and time. It is a small space, not large, but within it he can see _everything_ in his part of the universe. He can see galaxies unfurl beneath him, hundreds of years ago, all the way to the brightest speck in the distance, the very ends of time itself.

It is quiet here, not in terms of sound but in terms of _life_. He cannot hang here for long, even a starlighter like himself must bend to the rules of time and space like anything else in this world. However, as a creature of the universe he is allowed glimpses beyond its invisible walls, into the multiple universes that exist.

He sees one where James and he meet in a coffee shop. In that world, like many of them, he and James are mortals. There is the other one where James flies through space on a craft made by his own hand, and Q is the Prince waiting to be rescued. In another, one very, very specific universe where Q is a technical genius, and James is a spy.

Q likes that universe the best. They keep their personalities, as they do in all the universes, but in that one there is a specific fire to their relationship which exists in no other. They banter, they kiss, they fuck, they _love_ with such fervour that it almost blinds Q whenever he looks too closely.

In that universe, life is the most complicated out of any universe. It is the life that hurts them the most, the life that threatens to pull them apart.

But it is the richest universe, and the richest love that they share out of all the infinite universes throughout existence.


End file.
